Just another day on our trip around the sun, yet one invested with significance and symbolism.
This is the time of year when I like to clear clutter. I sort through my collection of glass jars amassed over the previous year. I sort through my collection of aluminum cookie containers. I sort through piles of papers and letters (what? was I supposed to have paid that bill two months ago?). What isn’t genuinely useful and needful is recycled.
I come from a family of savers. If it looks like it might potentially be useful, or at least wasn’t broken, it got saved. That was fine when we lived in a decently-sized house with full basement. But I have a tiny house and storage space is at a premium. I have to be more selective about what gets saved.
If I’m feeling ruthless, I cull my book collection. I would like to do same to E’s books, but he bristles at the very suggestion. I maintain it is not necessary to keep every 50cent used sci-fi paperback that has come into one’s hands. I tell him that when he dies I’m burning it all.