I've moved since last you heard from me, to a darling little house that can properly be called a cottage.
I moved under stressful and sad circumstances that I won't bore you with here. Suffice it to say, this place was a haven, a soft place to land after a terrible fall. And so this modest little place is very precious to me.
It's larger in some ways, smaller in others, than my old place. But it's OK because consolidating and culling one's possessions are part of the cathartic and healing process of moving.
I continue to solve the puzzle of making everything fit, maximizing the functionality of all the space.
Accordingly, I turned the tiny second bedroom into a walk-in closet and dressing room. It's glorious to have all my clothes and accessories arrayed before me when I face the task of getting dressed in the morning.
In spite of consolidating my possessions for the move, I'm still troubled by all the things I have that I don't use. Books I haven't read; clothes, makeup, hair accessories, jewelry, lotion, fragrances I never wear. I don't like excess or overconsumption and I sure don't like clutter.
So I'm testing all my clothes for wearability. Does it fit? Does it flatter? I need fewer clothes. I need to have clothes I actually wear. So each article of clothing is subjected to the question: Does it look great?
If not, off it goes to the end of the long driveway, where a box of sundry items with a "Free" sign on them will disappear within a matter of hours.
About the Books
My books, my many books, they have to prove themselves too. There's a whole shelf of books I haven't read, so I don't even know if they're worth keeping.
Expect to see reviews or something as I systematically process each and every one of these books. Right now I'm nearly to the end of
The Mother Tongue by Bill Bryson.
Stay tuned.
