I’m back, determined to purge again. The forty year collection
of stuff in this house has got to go. Every day my thoughts about stuff clutter
my mind, or should I say the
thoughts about clutter stuff my mind. I lament to friends but I don’t take
action. Maybe this time I mean business. I hope so, in fact I will it to be so. It will just be a
little each day but I have faith in the cumulative effect!
Yesterday it was a closet, not tidying up but purging twenty
turtlenecks, three pairs of slippers, and two pairs of sneakers. Some is being
washed ready for the spring church rummage sale; the rest is on its way to the
dump.
Two days into the renewed purging. If I can do a
little each day, it will get done—whatever
that means. Yesterday I spent no more than ten minutes getting rid of
cookbooks. There is more room on the shelf, and
I am free from household
obligations for the rest of the day. I’ve kept enough books to lift something
different out of the oven and onto the table every day, even if I live to be my
mother's age of one hundred one.
