As I’m getting ready to pack up to spend the summer in Virginia, I look around & think: storage, storage, UPS, in car… The lists are growing. Soon I’ll have to get a storage unit & actually start moving things there. I just hope Max (the Prius) will actually hold everything on the “car” list. Gosh, I hate the process of packing (I love to move, just hate to pack- go figure.)
And then I think. Wow, it’s a good thing I don’t have collections. You know, where you walk into someone’s house, and it’s all ducks, or antique kitchen gadgets or… pigs. I know people like that, and it’s just really sad. But I’m not like that. No, not me. When people walk into my house (wherever it happens to be), they do usually say “Wow, you really read a lot!” But is that a bad thing? I guess I’d rather they said that than: “Oh, you must really like… pigs?”
But as the days of packing draw nearer, I’m discovering that I actually do have weird little collections. I don’t think of them that way, there’s no denying that I have more of certain things than most people do. Like aprons. And seaglass. And earrings. And tea? And so help me, I seem to have a collection of bookmarks from bookstores. Even the now defunct Thunderbird Bookstore in Carmel.
The saving grace here is that I actually use all these things. And to me, the difference between “collections” and “things I like” is that the former need to be dusted. So there.
P.S. The bookcase was the reason I took this apt. And since that photo, my friend Scarlett has worked her magic on the shelves. There will be a before & after post later on, b/c she’s truly gifted; it’s amazing!