Saturday, January 9, 2016
Welcome to Nevermore
I'm not much of a shopper anymore. I've gotten to the point where I have so much stuff it occasionally makes me anxious, which then turns into multiple trips to the thrift store to offload a few bags and boxes. But the mass never seems to go down.
Though I diligently read minimalist blogs, I'll never be one of those either. While I like the idea of less, coming home to an empty white room with just a few well-chosen things in it would make me even more antsy than excess.
I may not define myself by my possessions, but the things that remain, slowly but surely, are well chosen, it not few in number. I like the house to look a certain way. It needs to speak to me, to let me know that I still live here, even if I've divested myself of several decades worth of crap.
So that's the deal these days. Mostly out, very little in.
These two ravens (or crows, I'm not sure which) followed me home from a local shop. I've been eyeing them for weeks, and generally that solves the problem - by the time I make up my mind, the thing I've been waffling over is long gone.
They were still there.
It was fate.
*With thanks to my friend, Karla Kizer, for the title.