It was the books...

I finally understand why I've continued to feel discombobulated even after curtains are hung and lamps are in place following our painting project.

My husband put together a couple of new bookshelves for my office last Saturday and I've been gradually shelving a few books each day this week.

Now I know: It was the books.

During our hectic child-rearing years, books that came into my possession were helter-skelterly shelved. Theology was in the living room, in our bedroom, and in my office. Fiction was primarily on one shelf, but overflowed to other areas. Books on writing crowded out poetry. An office shelf held two tiers of Latin and grammar.

As I bring order to my book chaos, my feeling of discombobulation gradually subsides.

That increasing feeling of peace, however, is tempered by the nagging fear that I will fill the existing space before I run out of books.

It's must be some sort of bibliagoraphobia. I'm sure Doug can come up with a good name for it.