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In which I play God

I am becoming addicted to cleaning things out. I’ve always loved the playing-God rush of making order out of chaos—although I remain envious that God could do the whole universe in a mere six days. But now I am grasping the power of making stuff disappear.

In general, I don’t have too much trouble parting with things as long as they aren’t books. This has finally begun to change, at least a little. There were far too many books in my shelves that I didn’t feel like finishing. More than half of those have gone away and the rest have moved to my to-read shelf where they have their last chance to make the team. At least from the novels. Nonfiction will be next to feel the purge after the to-read shelf becomes more manageable again.

I’m not one of those sewing-knitting-crafting types who have huge stashes of raw materials. I have small stashes. The time has come, however, for those miscellaneous bits and pieces to become actual useful items. I will soon have a new apron and a new Christmas tree skirt, among other things. Cricket’s Christmas presents are T.’s outgrown jammies transformed into another series of Victims.

Then there are the things I’ve saved because at some point I might have the kind of life where they’d come in useful—odd family knickknacks, wrong-sized table linens, and the like. Those are the things that are moving into my sights next. I have a real life, not a fantasy one. I don’t have to keep stuff that doesn’t bring me happiness.

What a rush!


Thanks, everyone, for the good wishes and kind thoughts after yesterday's post. Thanks to COBRA, the insurance problem is tabled and doesn't really have to be addressed until 2013. More importantly, I feel better again. Thanks for being there for me.



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