Book unpacking blues

I’ve been in the new place now more than a month. I’m just about done unpacking. Even closer now because I bought another bookcase today and put that together. I had fewer than I thought of what was to go on that one (non-fiction, general), so I decided to open another category - the Kid Books.

Every time I’ve moved those books in the past, I’d open the boxes with joy and wonder. Winnie the Pooh? I love those stories! Curious George? He is such a funny little monkey! Always the same, and I’m always glad to see them again, like old friends.

Today, however… Box after box, and the main thing I thought was “I paid someone to move this crap for me.” That, and, well, really not much else. I think they are depressing me, reminding me of a life I maybe once wanted but have turned my back on. I’ll never have kids, and I’m not one anymore. I guess that’s kind of sad. Maybe I should just let them go.

Maybe you should just leave them in the box. They may be depressing you now, but if you’ve kept them so long, you’ll regret getting rid of them. Put them back in the box and stick it in a closet. You never know about down the road.

You could donate them to a local library if you feel that it’s time to part with them.