In January, a woman’s thoughts turn lightly to … decluttering. I don’t know if men get this urge too, or not. Women nest, after all, when they are about to give birth. So maybe decluttering is ours too.
So far, I’ve cleaned the corner cabinet in the kitchen. This is a rolling butcher block table that holds the cookbooks, the wine, the candles, and the basket of dishtowels and cloth napkins. It used to hold a lot more, including tools and a machete, my father’s memoir of his fight with cancer, animal cone collars, you know, stuff. The tools and machete have been collected and are waiting for the trip to Ben’s toolshed, the memoir is tucked in the safekeeping cabinet (tried to reread it, can’t, too painful), and the rest has gone to its deserved reward.
Then I cleaned the bathroom cabinets and medicine chest, and THEN, I cleaned the bookshelf by the front door, and gave all the vinyl to Goodwill except for my brother’s first jazz album (or one of the first) and a recording of JRR Tolkien reading his poems. Believe me, the other stuff wasn’t worth a dime. Men at Work? What was I thinking?!
I’m about 1/10th done, so now I’m going to write.