Strength in What Remains

Day 121: Strength in What Remains and Other Books

How much is there to say about
giving away books?

The title of Tracy Kidder's latest stood out because of its relevance to this project. If it wasn't already taken, it could be the title of a memoir.

Today I'm not writing about the books I'm giving away, but about the stuff project itself. There's only so much to say about giving away books. Today, I picked out six or so - good reads as usual - and added them to the box I'm saving for the AAUW book sale. (I left my phone - with the photo - at home and will upload later.)

If we do decide to shift houses in a couple years or so, the stuff project will have served me in good stead, or so I tell myself. I won't be scrambling to figure out what I need and don't need under pressure of a deadline. I can feel good about making careful decisions about how best to get rid of stuff, and I won't end up making poor decisions that result in my getting rid of stuff I regret, or paying to move stuff I don't really need. If I end up staying where I am, I'll be living in a more serene and useful environment.

It turns out, though, that getting rid of stuff in a thoughtful and methodical way, and writing about it every day, is a monumental undertaking. I've done a good job of identifying something to get rid of every day (although it gets harder each time), and I've kept up with documenting the effort. What's lagging behind is the logistics.

Here's the list of things I've "gotten rid of" that are still hanging around, waiting to be gotten rid of:

• The canoe. No takers on my Craig's List ad - no one's come to see it, much less buy it - although I reposted at a lower price. Ditto the outboard motor. There are dozens of canoes for sale on Craig's List in our area. No idea how to get rid of it. Lower the price? How low will we accept? Give it away? To whom?
• Eyeglasses. This requires a separate trip to the mall. I hate the mall. LensCrafters has a program to distribute them to impoverished countries. Having seen extreme vision problems among the Masai in Kenya, I'm not willing just to throw them in the Goodwill pile. Will turn them in the next time I have a reason to go to the mall.
• Bookshelf for Karl's classroom at Summers Knoll School. Requires two people to move it down from the attic and load it into the car. Errand must be completed while Karl is at school. Karl is at school when I am at work.
• Marbles for my cousin's son. Requires finding a box, wrapping it up and addressing it, and taking a trip to the post office. Post office only open when I am at work.
• Wicker chaise longue. Probably should just be loaded into the car and driven to the PTO Thrift Shop. Note to self: ask Sam to do this in exchange for his use of the car.
• Crutches. No one wants them, even for free. Guess they will just go to the PTO Thrift Shop.

Meanwhile, Emma's departure date creeps nearer: she will move into the dorm 26 days from now. I've offered to help clean her room or do her laundry, or whatever she needs to get ready. So far, she hasn't taken me up on it. The clock is ticking. She has no clean clothes (again yesterday she was wearing one of my clean t-shirts). Her future roommate has already bought the matching bedding they decided on together. Her suitcase is still full from the last trip she took, by no means ready and waiting to be packed for college.

At work, I'm sprinting along behind the organizational changes that have been mandated centrally, and which have significantly changed my daily life. At home in the evening, I'm homed in on electronic games and web surfing instead of outside in the garden as has been my custom. The web creates mental white noise to block out rumination; weeding brings out the worrier in me. So I probably won't make the post office, or the mall, or the PTO Thrift Shop a priority. Taking it one day at a time.