All spring break I have looked forward to uncluttering my apartment; to getting rid of stuff. Finally I found a bit of time to do that today.
Next, papers/cardboard (a random sample).
Also: fresh from the shredder.
Third then, magazines.
Fourth, wire hangers.
(Why so many wire hangers? It is like a graveyard.)
I have come to a point in my life where I think I like getting rid of stuff more than I like buying stuff even; that when I do buy something, I find myself getting rid of at least one something-else. I find myself becoming quite unattached to objects. Except for books; my apartment is mostly books now.
Books, I still don’t know how to quit you.
I started this cold, gray day by grabbing some coffee with Linda at our excellent sconery on 1st and Asbury. She lent me a book of Mary Oliver poems and said how much she loved the six-word memoir zine from February. Eventually she said, “You’ve always been a very sensitive individual –– ever since high school,” (Linda was my English teacher freshman and senior years), and I imagined she meant that this sensitivity was good for the artist but made it more difficult for me, the man.
“I think I’ve also been a little selfish,” I said at one point.
“Yes; you need to start making room for someone else now.”
But I think this will require a little internal uncluttering first, Linda.