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Moving Day

January 28, 2018

I’m in the process of moving. I hate it. I’m looking forward to having moved into my new place, but the process makes me tired and irritable.

People tell me this is a good time to go through stuff and throw away things that have piled up over the last eight years here, and I have. Lots.  But then there are the books.

Of course, I don’t throw books away. I donate them. My discards could be someone else’s treasure. The issue is what to keep.

Obviously, my own books, or books I have stories or articles in. Books by friends. Books that are autographed. Books that I might want to reread or to have on hand for research.

On the hand if I disliked it, or I’m never going to look at it again, why keep it? I’ve already filled up two bags with books to discard and am well on my way to a third.

I’ll have some bookshelves and will undoubtedly need more for the stuff I’m keeping. And I’m the sort of person who likes looking at friend’s bookshelves to see what they’ve read and encourage them to look at mine. Once I’m settled, the books I keep will help define my new home.

And then I can start reclaiming all those books of mine that have been locked away in storage and start going through them.

Have I mentioned how much I hate moving?

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