Incremental Success

I managed this week to get rid of another box of unneeded items.  I have been ruthless in discarding irems from the sewing room.  My goodness, how I wish I had the money I have invested in all of the fabric, thread and notions that I am throwing away. 

This weekend, after the dust of Thanksgiving has settled, I will tackle the issue of books.  The main reason to buy an e-reader, for me, would be the issue of storage.  I have books spilling out of bookcases, piles of them on the floor in front of the bookcases. I can't even imagine what it would be like to have 3000 books taking up the space of a stenographer's notebook. 

Getting rid of books is anathema to me.  I was raised and still believe that they were sacred.  They occupied a place of honor in our living room.  As a child, they were my most treasured possessions and provided hours of escape from the harsh realities of my upbringing.  I don't want to give the wrong impression--I wasn't abused or neglected, at least not in the sense that we see abuse and neglect today.  But books took me to exotic worlds where people lived exotic lives.  They wore linen in summer and didn't wilt it with sweat. (Later I came to see the enormous difference between summer in Ireland and summer in the mid-Atlantic)

So, getting rid of books is physically painful.  I find some solace in the fact that perhaps others will be as fascinated as I by their contents. There is some satisfaction in the fact that the local library, so critical to our small, isolated community, will benefit through their semi-annual book sales. 

I am making progress and I do feel lighter in spirit because of it. My office, while still cluttered, feels much less chaotic.  My household feels calmer.  It's easier to find some things and I don't have this never-ending weight of undone chores.  It is slow going, but I am seeing some cleared surface area. 

The Suitcase of Failed Relationships

For thirty years, I have carried a torch for a lover who left me.  Most of the time, I managed to not think about him every single day.  But lately, he has been creeping back into my life, first in my dreams and then into my conscious thoughts.

I compared every man I dated to him.  Most of them came up short.  Did this effectively block any chances I had of establishing a lasting relationship with any of them?  Maybe.  He was a hard act to follow, for sure.  However, I didn't labor under any illusions.  I knew that he was a bad match for me.  But the heart wants what the heart wants.

I had a minor crisis a month or two ago when I paced the floor trying to keep myself from calling him.  How humiliating it would have been to contact him out of the blue after all this time only to have him not remember me? What would I have said?

I am puzzled as to why I have decided to start carrying around this particular valise again after so many years.  I honestly don't think anything good can come of it. It is interesting that in my quest to rid myself of baggage that I would voluntarily lift one, especially one that I set down so many years ago.

Making Headway

It's been a while since I last posted.  I have been struggling with the mass of possessions--it never stops.  This holiday weekend has been so good for me.  I have managed to make some headway.  I dismantled my old computer, with a great deal of regret.  It has been a teriffic machine, problem free, and I hated to put it away. I will have to find a way to clean the hard drive and maybe transfer the data to my laptop. But already the desktop looks cleaner and less cluttered. I boxed up the printer and the monitor and have both of them stored in the closet. I can't imagine that there is any sort of market for them, they're that obsolete.

But simply getting that corner of the office cleaned out has made me feel lighter and better about my life. Like I have at least the illusion of control.  I even began the enormous project of categorizing and filing the music I have. It's time to shed old tapes and maybe even CD's. Now that some record companies are no longer going to make them, I guess they will go the way of the vinyl LP's I have stacked on the floor. What to do with them?

I think I maybe am getting in control of this possessions steamer trunk. Funy how just the smallest bites add up.  If I could maintain this level of ambition, I might be able to transform that spare room into a place where someone could actually stay should someone actually come and visit me.