While scanning the shelves for interesting titles, it becomes apparent that there is no rhyme nor reason to the organization system.  Trying to remember where you saw the copy of T.S. Eliot’s The Waste Land or what section the book by Desmond Tutu was in becomes nigh impossible.

“No, no, no.  This will not do at all.”  Direlda is standing in front of a nearby shelf, holding a stack of books with one paw while he rearranges books with the other.  “Why did I ever let them browse the shelves unsupervised?”

He turns toward you.  “I’m terribly sorry about the disarray.  It’s not supposed to be this chaotic.”