I don’t usually post about my non-clay life here, but I just wanted to share with the internets that, while packing up for a move to a new apartment, I managed to crush my coffee table under the weight of my books.[1][3]

Right. Piles are going in the middle of rooms from now on.

[1] “Interesting Times” was the one that broke the table’s leg. I still have the rest of the Pratchett shelf to pack, then comics, language & linguistics, medieval stuff, and miscellaneous “serious”[2] books. Then… um, the things I own that aren’t books.

[2] You know. Pride and Prejudice, and Freakonomics, and Leonard Nimoy’s autobiography. That sort of stuff.

[3] As perversely happy as I am to have acquired this shiny new nerd bragging point, I am *very* happy that the pottery that was sharing bookshelf space was in a different teetering pile *next* to the coffee table, and did not fall over.

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