I’m not exactly “stalled”, but have a full day of work tomorrow. There are ten dogs boarding (two went home and four arrived) since yesterday, and I have several dogs to groom.
This morning, I picked up boxes for “packing”. I’m not moving (told Gary not to get his hopes up) but I need to gain some control here. The second hand book store only begrudgingly took the boxes of books (though the owner was relieved that I wasn’t asking her to buy these). There are even more that I can part with; I have no reverence for reference books that I haven’t consulted in decades. Maybe nobody else wants them either.
Over coffee, I mentioned my project to one of the managers of the local thrift store, and got a distinctly lukewarm reaction when I mentioned my plan to drop off boxes of glassware and other household items. She added that they certainly couldn’t take books.
I’ve become frustrated with listing the more precious items on Facebook. I’m so pleased when a person feels they have found a treasure, but this delight is cancelled out by folks who don’t show up when they say they will. Everyone has “a life”, and I make an effort to get home or stay home when buyers say they are going to come.
On the bright side, while waiting for people or when I needed a break from sorting and decision making, I worked on the chicken house door. This is not a huge project and I don’t need an award other than my own smug attitude, but for once I repaired something before it was beyond fixing. I hung the door this afternoon, and it fits better than it has in a year, which is more luck than anything. I thought I would have to sand some edges down to make the door close properly, or take a big hammer to the frame, or otherwise finesse the thing.
Further to my monologue about getting rid of stuff, and in dialogue with Gary on the phone tonight, I think I will continue “packing” my unused and unwanted items and eventually take them to the Hospice Thrift Store or Value Village in Prince George. Perhaps I will “share the wealth” and take some to each place. Maybe Shelly and I can make a day of this.
It’s a starry night and I’m going to go soak in the hot tub while listening to an audio book. The one I started listening to at dinner time is, “The Subtle Art Of Not Giving a F*ck”.
Stay well, my friends.