Thanks to this move, we're unpacking our storage unit.
A little over three years ago, we moved from a condo we were renting into an RV. We put a whole bunch of stuff in storage and gave a whole bunch of stuff away. We lived together in our cozy little home (the first home we owned!) for fifteen months. At the end of that time, Pic and I moved to a little apartment (almost 500 square feet), but C stayed on the road.
This move means many things. Like I said in my last post, it means a new level of commitment. Financial commitment, of course, but also a renewed commitment to our little family (and to our housemates/co-owners). I also feel like it's a renewed commitment C and I are making to our relationship.
This move also means that C, Pic, and I all officially live together for the first time in two years. (!) (This new development isn't quite as normal as it sounds, as C is often still away, but, yeah, we live together for reals.)
It means a real commitment on C's and my parts to our paycheck-earning work. (And that's something I worry over. I could do so much with homeschooling right now, but I've come to the point where I've had to ask for some real help and give up a certain level of control, which is not my strong suit. If I were a character on Friends, I'd be Monica. Seriously.)
It also means we get to unpack our stuff. Our stuff that has patiently waited for us for the last 38 months. Which means I get to figure out what I want to keep and what I'm willing to let go of. (Like I said, we gave away a lot when we moved - washer, dryer, couch, entertainment center, cabinets, other furniture, clothes, toys (although not many of those), electronics, dishes, and more - but we have a lot left.)
Right now, as I slowly settle in, I'm looking at what I can divest myself of in the way of books.
Back when I was a young 'un, one Christmas my mom bought me about 100 paperbacks from the thrift store.* I think I still have a whole bunch of those. And there are many I've never read and many I don't plan on reading again (at least I think there are). So I'll be unpacking my books, judging whether they're worthy of my shelf space (dun, dun, dun - it sounds so dramatic), and boxing up the rest to send them back to a thrift store life.
I have enough books on my reading list to last the rest of my lifetime and Pic and I have started going back to the library again, so I can probably let go of a book or two here and there and let the libraries fill in the gaps.
I used to be of the mind that I couldn't own too many books, it just wasn't possible. Books are the one thing I allow myself to collect. But, well, I've barely unpacked three boxes of books and I'm already thinking I might not have space for all of my books. I honestly have more books than I'll ever be able to read. I think it (maybe) might be time to (maybe) rein this collection in a bit. But, oh, it's hard to say goodbye.
Here's what's being whittled from the little unpacking I've done so far (these are just books I'm not going to read/reread):
- Windmill of theGods, The Best Laid Plans, and Bloodline by Sidney Sheldon (read these long ago)
- The Deep Blue Good-by, The Long Lavender Look, One Fearful Yellow Eye, and The Girl in the Plain Brown Wrapper by John D. MacDonald (never read)
- Airport by Arthur Hailey (never read)
- The Seventh Commandment by Lawrence Sanders (never read)
- The Blue Bicycle by Régine Deforges (never read)
- [ETA, just later this afternoon: James Patterson's When the Wind Blows and Clive Cussler's Raise the Titanic! (haven't read either)]
* She and my younger sister wrapped each book and then put the books into a box that was also then wrapped. I'm sure everyone in my family "loved" that morning, as I'm known for being, um, frustrating when I open wrapped gifts. Oh, yeah, and I guess it should be no surprise that I have a teeny tiny attachment to book-owning.