This weekend Josh and I decided to go through our book collection and get rid of a bunch of stuff we’re only lugging from place to place. I was basically raised inside a library, so you’d think I would have a card to my local branch. I don’t. We buy books all the time, and now, faced with the prospect of moving, we can only see these mountains of books moving with the help of a forklift.

And with that realization, the weeding began. Out went battered text books, Harry Potters, texts from past young married sunday school classes and yellowed paperback classics from high school. Next to those were video game playbooks, Terry Brooks’ annual fare, Martha Stewart magazines and really, really nice coffee table books Josh and I gave each other as gifts, including: The Camaro Book, 1000 Chairs, The Beatles Anthology, and Maps of Middle Earth. Some of those were hard to part with. Yet, there’s something to be said about our relationship when we can basically throw away the gifts we gave each other. It’s all just stuff anyway.

After it was all said and done, I think more weight than the both of us combined (!) was sorted out. I’m going to try to sell some of the nice pieces at Half Price and donate the rest to the public library’s store.

Now Josh wants me to go through my kitchen gadgets with the same vigor. I don’t know if that’s possible, since one day I might need my potato ricer. Because it is entirely feasible that I may one day make real potatoes, from scratch, instead of buying those delicious Country Crock tubs that take 5 minutes to make.