We are working on many fronts to rid ourselves of the "stuff" we have accumulated over the past 35 years or so. We just can't take it all with us, and, in fact, we don't want to. It is time to divest. Julie and Tom have both been home to take carloads of belongings (theirs and ours) home with them. Julie and I took a carload of clothes and shoes to Goodwill. Ben sold his record collection and a great deal of stereo equipment to the local used record store. We have arranged with an auction house to sell the radios, televisions, clocks, toasters, and assorted collectibles we have been amassing all these years. They will also take regular household items we no longer need/want.
I have taken on the task of getting rid of some of the hundreds and hundreds of books we have in practically every room in the house. In a previous post I mentioned Last Exit Books, a used book store here in Kent. I don't know when the store first opened, but when we moved here ten years ago, it was a tiny storefront shop with a few book shelves and a comfortable reading chair. It has grown like crazy, and earlier this year, moved into a much larger space in the same building.
When I took my first box of books in to be sold several weeks ago I explained to Jason, the shop owner, that we would be re-locating to Maryland. "Oh, that's too bad, " was his reply. "I mean, it's probably good for you guys..." I assured him it was good for us, and he assured me that he would be happy to look through all the books we would care to bring in. I haven't kept track, but since then I have probably taken in ten or twelve boxes full of books. Sometimes Julie helps me and sometimes Ben does, and sometimes I just haul them in by myself.
Typically, Jason looks over what I bring in and offers me a price for the majority of the books, setting aside the ones he doesn't want. This system works great for both of us, but lately, I am increasingly concerned that the number of books we want to get rid of is growing instead of getting smaller. Let me give you an example. I had four boxes of books in the trunk of my car. Ben and I took two boxes to Jason over the weekend. I now have three boxes in the trunk, with two more waiting to go. Yesterday I found two stacks of books in a cupboard I thought contained only pottery and other decorative items. I am feeling a little panicky about this. I need to get the books out of the house. When I told Ben about my concern, his reply was, "the nearest thing I can figure out is that they are born pregnant" - a classic Star Trek reference, and very entertaining, but not very helpful.
I figure I will take a box or two of books to the bookstore today, but I'm kind of scared to open the trunk and look inside. I'm pretty sure there were three boxes in there the last time I looked. Or was it four?