Living In Paradise - Elvis Costello

in the aftermath of the monsoon here in atlanta, we are ok. we are not dead or homeless or car-less. we have a lot to be grateful for. all is well, aside from garage flooding. and, well, we had a bunch of boxes from last year's move that were "hey, we'll deal with you fuckers later" sort of boxes. and, well, we got a lot of muddy water in the garage. so now, i'm mourning the potential loss of some old books. i think they can be dried out and salvaged, so i'm trying really hard.

we are going through all the boxes in our mildewey-smelling house now, as the damp things dry and get washed. and this brings us to a major difference between dave and me. dave is a packrat. i? i am NOT. i have very little sentimental attachment to anything. i will throw away things, recycle them, consign them, donate them. i do not care. i hate clutter. i live with a clutter-er, with which i am learning to deal. my only weakness and source of wretched excess? books.

there were boxes and boxes of books in that garage. most are ok, and the majority of them are mine. i love books. i have a library card, but i don't use it often, in favor of acquiring books for my own library. i use paperback swap and frugal reader, and i go to used bookstores. books have always been my weakness. i'm working on it.

i do have a few things that i will only feel bad about getting rid of because they are SUPPOSED to have sentimental value. and that's just wrong; i know it is. so i keep them. old dolls i don't remember playing with, old clothing i don't remember wearing. things from my childhood that i'm supposed to want to keep forever. but all my memories are already inside of me, so why do i need to keep these things? what is it about people that we want to hang on to THINGS in order to be able to remember? i have photos, i have memories, i have stories to hang on to. i don't need to keep a trinket from a trip i took with my grandparents. i remember that trip well.

i have pieces of furniture that used to belong to my grandparents, but every time i sit at the table, i don't think of them. i think of them when someone mentions the corn palace, when i hear my fair lady, and sometimes when i look at my boy. the furniture and things are nice, but i don't need them.

we're getting there.