I've had a burst of energy after being struck down by a cold. Yesterday I cleaned out my closet, got rid of a lot of clothes I never wear because they're too old, too small, too dreary (remember knit tops before stretch?). Three handbags, several pairs of sandals and shoes, including a pair of sandals from Target so cheap I couldn't resist buying them but hell on the feet. A pair of jeans I wore for years until I caught sight of my rear end in them a few months ago: deeply unbecoming. God knows if they'd make anyone else look any better; they're outta here.
After that, I got going on books. I don't LIKE Anne Tyler! Or a second earnest book about peach farming. Or any more Annie Dillard. I don't need a copy of "Rebecca." At the same time, I can't bring myself to get rid of any literature books from college, even though I haven't laid a hand on any of them since 1972 except to pack and unpack them during moves. I discarded three mostly unread books by Ruth Prewar Jhabvala: I don't care if she wrote wonderful scripts for Merchant/Ivory-- I don't like her fiction, so there.
I've got a lot of empty hangers and roomy bookshelves. Feels good.
1 comment:
"deeply unbecoming." genius!
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