Oct. 25th, 2018 12:23 pm
Excavating
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muckefuckI'm not sure what took hold of me last night, but I finally attacked the bullwark of dusty paperbacks on the east wall of the master bedroom. A few years ago, when he's reading rate exploded, this became Monshu's preferred dumping ground for the scifi/fantasy series he finished. We talked several times about packing them up and donating them somewhere but it never happened.
It didn't happen last night either. I just shifted them to one of the de facto bookshelves on the north wall (Monshu bought them for orchids) and consolidated them so the clutter is a little more stable and organised. The room feels lopsided without them there but at least they're not the first thing anyone sees when they entre and the kinky Tantric scroll on the wall finally has the pride of place it deserves.
It felt a little painful, like tugging at a scab. I'm not sentimental about the books but I saved some of the random objects mixed in with them, such as a bookmark from an auction house that still emails him, an old Starbucks receipt, and an orange lollipop he gave me for Halloween one year. I suspect that's just transitory and those will all go in an upcoming purge.
Same goes for the post-it with vital stats from a doctor's visit found unexpectedly stuck into a pocket character dictionary that he used to decipher scrolls but I seldom touched. There are two columns, one on the left with his previous numbers and a dramatically lower set on the right, indicating that it must date from that deceptive first year of retirement when he'd developed his cancer but hadn't yet been diagnosed. That year when we could have travelled but didn't because he was enjoying having more leisure than he'd ever had before and besides what was the hurry?
On second thought, maybe that will stay for a bit. Seems like a lesson that deserves to be kept in mind.
It didn't happen last night either. I just shifted them to one of the de facto bookshelves on the north wall (Monshu bought them for orchids) and consolidated them so the clutter is a little more stable and organised. The room feels lopsided without them there but at least they're not the first thing anyone sees when they entre and the kinky Tantric scroll on the wall finally has the pride of place it deserves.
It felt a little painful, like tugging at a scab. I'm not sentimental about the books but I saved some of the random objects mixed in with them, such as a bookmark from an auction house that still emails him, an old Starbucks receipt, and an orange lollipop he gave me for Halloween one year. I suspect that's just transitory and those will all go in an upcoming purge.
Same goes for the post-it with vital stats from a doctor's visit found unexpectedly stuck into a pocket character dictionary that he used to decipher scrolls but I seldom touched. There are two columns, one on the left with his previous numbers and a dramatically lower set on the right, indicating that it must date from that deceptive first year of retirement when he'd developed his cancer but hadn't yet been diagnosed. That year when we could have travelled but didn't because he was enjoying having more leisure than he'd ever had before and besides what was the hurry?
On second thought, maybe that will stay for a bit. Seems like a lesson that deserves to be kept in mind.