Walking Backwards

I find it hilariously funny that in attempting to get a photo for today's post, I could not find a single clean and uncluttered surface in the whole house! Go me and my slammin' housekeeping skills!



This is the time of year that I play catch up with all that I have let sit neglected around here for the remainder of the year when I am in school and shuttling the kid back and forth and trying to get work done and looking for more work and on and on. But the summer, oh the summer is reserved for the pleasure of knocking all of that dust from the nooks and crannies and subsurface areas of my house. It is for finally throwing away that broken remote control that sits on my headboard and only brings frustration and dismay to those who attempt to use it. It is for out with the old and in with the new (well not new, but throughly cleaned and repaired thrift store finds). And I love it. Well, not it, the process of cleaning, per se, but the results of an intensive couple of weeks of dedicated cleaning. I like to be able to sit on my floor again and not have to question every item of food I pull from my pantry.



However, there is one part of this cleaning/scrapping/culling process that I dread, and that is the paring down of my books. For me, my books are like sacred relics, tomes that hold all of the information that I could ever want at my fingertips, an endless fount of entertainment that is only limited by my time and imagination. Sigh, but something must be done. I have run out of shelf space you see. Books are no longer carefully categorized and lovingly treated in accordance to their cherished position, instead they sit stacked by the couch amidst the cat hair and dust bunnies. I have books propping up lamps and piled in boxes. We have books in the kitchen and books in the hallway.



So what is a girl to do, cut the cord and let these books float into the realm of those that could appreciate and treasure them, despite the fact that most will probably be relegated to the bargain bin at the used bookstore or suffer a more intolerable fate? Or should I keep them and accept my own fate as the woman who will die old and alone after a teetering tower of books collapses on me? I just don't know yet. Maybe sweeping up the cat hair around them would be a start, but that just seems like a lot of work ;)