I like to give things away. Sometimes that impulse makes me gasp, like this weekend when I bundled up an expensive pair of shoes and fed them to one of the city’s (very few) clothing donation boxes.
“Oh, but they were so expensive, and that’s rare for you.” But they were leather — recycled leather, but still, I know myself, and I know I don’t want to wear that, and won’t in the future.
Likewise, the area of Toronto where I work, Liberty Village, has just set up two library-boxes — a “leave one, take one”-type plan that’s become popular. So I dropped off some books Monday, and was going to put two in today, then paused on the last one:
I bought this back when I was taking workshops and learning how to be an organized person. Last night when I was packing my bag I put this in, thinking, “Oh, that stuff is so basic to me now,” but as I flipped through it, standing in front of the library-box, I remembered why I liked it so much: I love the promise and possibility of setting up new projects, and the dream of things going to plan. This book is full of brilliant tips and systems for managing personal and organizational projects. As Marie Kondo would say, it “sparks joy”.
So that was a close one. But still, I love the smell of burning bridges in the morning!
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It seems wrong to not mention this, since it’s such a big thing, yet blogging about it feels crassly dramatic. I don’t really know how to process this event, except the way that I have — by drawing about it.
I spoke to Mom again last night, and it sounds like Dad’s okay, which is a relief. But it’s hard to be here just getting on with everyday things.