Bookcases

I have this thing.

I believe less stuff = greater happiness. Stuff weighs you down.

We live in a small house and enjoy the fact that it forces us to keep on top of stuff. If we get new stuff, we’re forced to get rid of old stuff. We’re trying to empty one room completely (not there yet, maybe 40% there) so it’s a place for exercising and the more we remove the more peaceful the room becomes.

I love digital. Digital’s great. It sits in a cloud somewhere not being cluttery.

But I can’t get a grip on bookcases.

Every so often I attack them, attempt to remove anything that isn’t a book, energetically wave a duster around. But immediately, magically, they revert to pigeon holes of chaos. Housing books, and comics, and leaflets, old glasses, hand-knitted mittens and hats, photographs, cassettes, candles, strange ornaments, empty packaging…

I think I need to accept the bookcases. I’m never going to be someone who has tidy bookcases.

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