I have stuff. A lot of stuff. I’ve been on this planet for a while now, lived in my house for quite a bit of time, and expanded into that spare bedroom when one of the kids moved out.
Most of the stuff I don’t use. Probably, the same amount I don’t really need. So I have been researching how to minimize my lifestyle.
All was going well until I was told to throw out old books.
Old books aren’t like used tissue (which face it, most of us have reused when the tissue box ran empty). They’re books. Books that can be read again. And again. Heck, I even buy old books.
I supposed I could just ignore that ludicrous piece of advice and carry on. But instead, I think I’ll buy a used book and add it to the overflowing shelves in my daughter’s old bedroom.
Until next time.