The past couple of days I've had some dog walks. And the grass is starting to turn green. But mostly I'm excited to be fully using our new Addition. After a couple years of not having much extra space, being in the new part of the house (and being comfortable) is a pleasure beyond pleasures.
I've moved all the books for the umpteenth thousandth time. It is hard to part with a book. I've winnowed them down many times before. Like when I moved to Grand Junction, Colorado. Or when I moved to Nevada. I still have a few thousand in my Dad's house in Minnesota.
Is it selfish to hang on to a book? Would it be best to pass them on? Donate them to a library? Send them to the recycling center? I appreciate the work that went into writing a book--even a bad one. Somehow it just seems nasty to toss out a book.
And then there are all the books I wanted to read but just couldn't get through them. Do I hang onto them? Leaves of Grass comes to mind: never could read that. And Gore Vidal's fiction---I try and try to no avail. Should I hang on to them? Will I grow into them? Will I be smarter in the future?
The best arrangement is to have someone come over and "borrow" them---never to bring them back. So come on over. Peruse my bookshelf. Most are available for an indefinite loan. Just don't ask for my Ed Abbey books...