Five-year Plan
I Am Getting Rid of (Some) Books.
And I'm only a little squicked by that.
I am exhausted. I sorted books. Yes, I know, that’s hardly exhausting unless the sorting involves choosing which ones are going to actually read in the next 5 months, which ones are going to storage, and which ones are going to find new homes. Yes, I did say new homes.
We have reached the dreaded serious sorting stage, and this week’s project was the bookshelves. That means that I had to go through all the kids’ books as well as my own. The kid books were easier. Pick up a book. If you start by reciting its contents or laughing because you read it to one or more of them a hundred times, it stays. If it has an inscription to them inside, probably keep it. If not, it can go away.
My books were harder. I had already done a serious culling before we moved into this house, but that was almost 10 years ago. That time, I managed to let go of all the classics I had because they are easily re-acquired. This time, I wanted to make sure I was only storing the ones that I am going to go back to or the ones to which I am seriously (possibly irrationally) attached.
It took two half days, but I am finished. Well, I am finished with the sorting part. The books that I am keeping are in 6 boxes (no judgment), and there are about 16 boxes of books that need to go to the Book Barn.
On the plus side, that means I get to go to the Book Barn which is a fantastic complex with many buildings filled with books. The downside is that I am not buying books. No, I mean it. I am not buying more books. I am selling the ones I have for cash, not credit.
Books are a special kind of dive into your personal history. They are reflections not only of who you were in reality, but, also, who you were aspirationally. I found books I bought because I thought I’d read them, but never did like a case study of city architecture. Who did I think I was? I know exactly when I bought it. I got it at The Strand in New York City not long after I had Ryan. So, I must have thought that I had enough brain power to read that and take care of a three-year-old and an infant. Madness.
If there was one thing I didn’t expect when we decided to become a nomad family, it is the amount of time I have spent revisiting other parts of our lives. Every box so far has taken my back in time. It also requires me to decide which tangible reminders are worth keeping, and which parts are best left to memory alone.
I would love to say that I have some great insights into myself, but all I can say is that having my past come rushing into my present and demand my immediate attention, is not as bad as it could be. It has, however, made me realize that decision fatigue is a real thing, and I understand it intimately.
I am so tired tonight, that I don’t even have the energy to fantasize about all the places we’ll see once (finally) get on the road. What is making me happy are the empty shelves. The boxes I did before these, were all things that were hidden in the house. I sorted things from the attic and the garage. This is the first time that our progress is visible every time I walk into a room, and that, is worth all the decision fatigue in the world.
