I’m not claustrophobic or anything, but I’m beginning to think our place is too small.  It isn’t really; we just have too much junk.  I could speak only for myself, but I won’t.

A few weeks ago, Sarge spent a day or two making the Reading Room look, well, like a room.  He put photos up and everything.  One of them is actually a collage, because I have a crafty cousin who does that sort of thing.  I do not.

I was just happy to go into the room, do a few turns and leave without having to back out again.   I got dizzy after one too many figure-eights.  There was so much space!  No echoing, but lots of space.  Floor space, reading chair space.  And penguin space.  Jemima and Terence, together again.

I promised that I would clear as much from my writing space/the kitchen table.  Lots of dead trees/books, notebooks, vitamins, train tickets, post and paperwork mean that there is a Hemingway-shaped nook at the edge of the table.  For anyone trying to keep up, we actually eat at the living room table.

Now, I don’t use my wallet in the way that I should.  Money, probably more than I think, goes in the bottom of my bag.  Actually, several bags.  My wallet is for cards.  Expired cards.

I went through the piles.  Again. I found some useful things:


  1.  My wallet.
  2. My library card.  It wasn’t in the wallet.  For a few weeks, I’ve been using ID and a smile to take out books.  My card was at very bottom of pile number three.  Of course I used it  to add to book pile number 286.
  3. We need a shredder.  We probably have one somewhere.  But it isn’t in one of my piles.
  4. No fewer than 4 old notebooks.  Full of lists and random lines.  Six pages of ‘something’, ten pages of another thing.  Garnished with coffee-rings, highlighted lines and ‘NOTE TO SELF:  WTF is this?’
  5. Some sweets that I chomped while trying to decipher the aforementioned lines.


Some of the books are back on the shelves, either here or at the actual library.  Others have been relegated to the to-sell/give away sack.  Feel free to note that particular sad sack has not yet made it out of my building.

A box labelled ‘Personal Papers’ has been filled to the brim and stacked in the hall closet.  Someday, we will tackle the closet.  That day is not today.

Step 1 of The Book Purge. How many steps out the door?




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