It's those damn romance novels

So I think my books are breeding. I've packed five boxes of them and sold another box's worth, and as far as I can tell, the shelves aren't much more empty than when I started. I know I didn't buy this many books, ergo they must be making baby books, and not the good kind with ribbons and pictures of you when you were three hours old, but the bad, oddly-shaped, heavy ones that won't go happily into boxes.

I hate moving.