Wait, You Guys Have Some of My Books? Which Ones?

"Well, tell him about your project," my mother says to my father as they both talk to me on the phone. I lay on the very comfortable bachelor-brown couch my father bought me which I will shortly be selling because Katie hates it, and hold the phone up to my ear (though usually I prefer to use the handsfree earphones).

"Oh, I finished the attic," my father says, "and it's pretty good. We should be able to store all your old stuff, like your paintings and your books, up there and get them out of our way."