So far I’m doing a noble job just going through my stuff and leaving my husband’s for him to purge when he so chooses. Today, however, when I tried to get rid of an old book, I learned that he’s not ready yet.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“Some old book. Do you want to get rid of it?”
“Oh, no. It’s fascinating. I’m going to read it.”
All I can say is that when I finish with my stuff, he’d better watch out. Lucky for him, that won’t be for a loooong while.
Today was meager pickings. I chose the bookshelf in the hall, only to discover that except for “Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle”, which I couldn’t possibly let go of, and the set of “Queen Lucia” books by E.F.Benson, which my mother-in-law trusted me to pass down the generations, all the books were my husband’s golf books.