A lot of my friends are downscaling, including me. We’re sorting out, tossing and embracing a new uncluttered lifestyle.
We’re buying less stuff and we’re keeping less stuff.
And in the same way we don’t need 10 pairs of jeans, 26 pairs of shoes or 28 bras, we do not need so many books.
Bras are easy. You just toss them.
But how does one sort through books?
I’ve been going through my bookshelves and trying to be strategic. I think I’ve come up with a very good Violet plan.
Books to toss:-
Read, enjoyed, never gonna read again.
Halfway through, not going to finish.
Dropped in the bath.
And anything over 400 pages long.
Books to keep:-
Changed my life.
Can still quote lines.
Read over and over and over.
Made me weep.
Given by a lover.
Written by a lover.
And used to be my mom’s.
But then what about all the books given by friends, with love, even though they’re kinda mediocre books. I don’t know what to do with these.
Stoep Zen. It’s a terrible fucking book filled with Zen meditations and healthy recipes but the person who gave it to me, well, I love her. And I can imagine her, standing in a book shop, taking ages to choose, making a decision, gently holding the book, stroking the cover, wrapping it thoughtfully, writing a beautiful note on the inside cover, and giving it with pure love.
I have to keep this book.
And maybe she didn’t do that at all. Maybe somebody else gave her Stoep Zen and she hated it and passed it on to me but still – I like the dream, the dream of the gift, the dream of love.
Shit. Sorry. Maybe the Zen meditations have got to me.
I want my books back.
And what was I thinking?
I want my bras back too.
The black lacy one that I wore with THAT guy. The sheer pale pink one with pretty flowers, god how could I even think of throwing that one away, and the white satin one, I remember his hands around me, unclasping it, big hands, strong hands, his hands, oh god his hands.
What’s the big deal about decluttering anyway.
I quite like my books. My bras. And his hands.
I’m not throwing away a thing.