Rehomed.

We got a place! We got a place!

It’s not so much more expensive than our current place, but it’s way better.

I will be moving into a place with laminate floors, hardwood ceiling beams, a bigger bedroom, a tiled kitchen, double sinks, a little more counter space, a place specifically for the catbox, and a window facing an overgrown garden where I can set up my computer and write. Oh, and free cable and internet.

The relief, she is palpable.

Books Define Me.

So, in all the brouhaha of having to move, I have been slowly divesting myself of stuff I don’t need.

Again, the books are a bit of a challenge. I know I have a hard time getting rid of them, and I started to think about why.

My books define me. They are a mirror that tells me about myself.

I look at my bookshelves and can confidently say to myself, “Hey, I am the kind of person who knows about the history of Gothic architecture. Yes, I do know a lot about the Canadian fishing industry. I am fiercely literate and enjoy poetry and mythology as well as science fiction, fantasy, mystery and romance novels. I have a distinct fondness for British humour, both historical and modern, and I understand the development and history of fairy tales. I garden, I cook, and I can identify wild birds and seashore creatures. I know a lot about European social history.”

If I gave some of those books away, would I be losing a part of my self as well?

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