How does that stack of books-to-read keep getting taller?

I'm not talking about my Want To Read shelf on Goodreads, or my Wishlist on Audible. I mean the books I already own, piling up on various flat surfaces around the house, waiting to be read. From where I sit right now I can reach out and touch  
The Watchers by Tahar Djaout (bought at the Friends of the Santa Monica Library bookstore) 
The Powerbook by Jeanette Winterson (ditto) 
Plucked from a Far-Off Land by Taner Baybars (bought at the amazing Moufflon Bookshop in Cyprus) 
Camelot and Vine by Petrea Burchard (I shot a GuerrillaReads video of the author and she gave me a copy. Score!) 
The Gray File by Aris Fioretos (thank you, Pop Hop Books & Print)  
Nigerians in Space by Deji Bryce Olukotun (thank you, Skylight Bookstore and LA Times Festival of Books) 
Cutting for Stone by Abraham Verghese (gift from a friend)  
Other Electricities by Ander Monson (gift from another friend who knows about my deep and abiding interest in electricity)   

Not so long ago, it dawned on me that I won't live long enough to read all the books I want to, perhaps not even all the books sitting right here in my house. That was a sobering brush with mortality. With all the busy-ness going on in life, sometimes I forget to set aside time for reading. Then I find myself in a bookstore making some amazing discovery, and I walk out the door with another gem (or two) in my hands. I reckon that's how they pile up. At least they're not lonely while they sit there, waiting for me to find time for them. 

I'll keep buying books, that's for sure. And listening to them, downloading them and checking them out from the library. They'll keep piling up, and I'll be happy to see them every day. 

What books are waiting for you?