Toomanybooks






Letters from North
America


Stick
a fork in me…I’m
done. I can’t think
of one place on my
body that doesn’t
hurt. Even my hair
(what’s left of it)
is in pain. I’d have
to feel better to
die.



In case you forgot,
we have spent the
last week moving
from one house to
another one. If you
get the chance to do
this, take my advice
and don’t. Save
yourself some grief.
Stay in one place
for as long as you
can. Buy or rent a
cave and make a
conscience decision
not to ever move for
any reason. Trust me
on this.



Our main problem is
that we are moving
into a house that is
about 1300 square
feet smaller than
where we have been
for the past eleven
years. Our stuff
just won’t fit. That
is it won’t fit in
any convenient sense
of the word. Our
house looks like a
furniture store.
Couches and chairs
stacked up in
bedrooms. Boxes
against the wall,
pictures wrapped and
laying on the floor.
I think we could put
a sign in the yard
and sell most of
this stuff without
any trouble at all.
Just take cash, no
credit cards
accepted.



We have too many
books. I’ll never be
able to read them
all, but I hate to
throw them away. War
and Peace stares
back at me in the
morning when I am
drinking coffee and
reading the paper. I
know one day I’ll
get back into it
again. Not today,
I’m tired.



Throw away those
magazines. I don’t
know why I buy
magazines with
recipes; I can’t
ever go back and
remember which ones
had the good recipe
in the first place.
Those financial
investment and
retirement guides?
Chunk those, in view
of today’s economy
anything written
longer than one week
ago is old and
useless. Give them
to my doctor. He
still has stuff in
his lobby about how
we can work
ourselves out of the
depression, the one
in 1929.



No sense in keeping
those diet and
exercise books. They
just make my eyes
hurt. Throw them in
the trash as well. I
cleaned out the
attic and the
garage. Gave all of
the yard stuff to
the yard guys.
Shovels, rakes,
hoes, they can use
all of them. I can’t
remember the last
time I dug a hole.
We’re sitting on
solid rock; you
can’t dig holes in
this part of the
country. Your pet
dies; you need
dynamite to bury him
not a shovel. Weed
eaters and leaf
blowers, what do I
need with them? The
yard guys do that
stuff. I found a
case of motor oil.
Gave it away along
with the
transmission fluid
and the antifreeze.
I haven’t changed
oil in about fifteen
years. I don’t plan
on starting now.
Four gas cans. For
what? I don’t even
own a lawnmower any
longer. Some kind of
an exercise lounger
I could never figure
out how to use. One
of the yard guys
grabbed it in a
hurry. He said his
wife wanted one. I
hope he’ll be happy.
I hope she is happy
he brought it home
for her.



I have clothes that
I could only wear
after I have been
dead for a year.
Those go out as
well. Those lovely
polyester shirts
from the disco days
probably won’t be
coming back into
style anytime soon.
Out they go. I have
clothes from my fat
period. Those
depress me and are
going out also.
Goodwill is going to
think these are
coming from separate
families. I don’t
need to explain.
Just run in and drop
the stuff off. No
questions asked.
Remind myself to
wear sunglasses. I
don’t need a
receipt.



Our youngest son was
over last night and
was looking over
some of the stuff we
are throwing away. I
explained that we
should have done
this before we
moved, but we didn’t
have time. The new
people wanted to
move in on the day
we closed. In this
economy we were
thrilled to sell the
house. We could move
everything in five
hours if necessary.
Our son is getting
married in August
and I suggested that
he look into
inflatable
furniture. Just blow
it up when you get
somewhere and let
the air out when you
leave.



He didn’t know if
they made stuff like
this or not, but I
think it’s a great
idea. I could sure
be happy with a blow
up couch about now.
We have one that is
too big for the
doors so we will
have to have one of
the windows removed
in order to get it
into the living
room. Inflatables
are the wave of the
future. You could
put your whole house
in the trunk of your
car. My kind of
deal.



Now, if I could find
the coffee pot or
the wine. Makes no
difference to me at
this point.