For just about as long I can remember, I have been an avid user of the New York City Public Library system. Once old enough to have my own library card, I would spend hours wandering the book-filled shelves of this miraculous institution where my interests were wide and varied, ranging from science fiction to classic literature as well as historical tomes.
As I grew older, it became apparent that in addition to my fondness for the written word, I also realized that I was possessed with the bad habit of failing to return the borrowed books in a timely manner. It wasn't that I lost the books I had borrowed, they just somehow disappeared into the miasma of clutter that was my room, while growing up in Woodside. It got so bad that one point