and also a Declaration of Independence, of sorts:
I'm getting rid of some knitting and crochet literature. I don't know exactly what, yet, because I'm not exactly sure of what I have anymore. But it's going, going, gone, baby, and I'm not bringing any more home.
But why, inquiring knitters want to know.
Because insulation has been invented, hallelujah joy, and I don't need the double thickness of literature lining the walls anymore.
Because they're a fire-and-tripping hazard.
Because somewhere, out there, is a knitter who is just dying for a chance at a cheap version of an old classic.
But really, it's because there are five people in this house and the adults have never learned how to part with anything, ever. Which leads to natural disasters like children who are unable to keep their rooms clean -- not incapable, given half a chance, unable because they have Too Much Stuff. And they are learning from the role models in their lives that throwing something away/selling it/donating it charity/putting it on F.U.R.* is unneccessary, undesirable, and bloody well impossible.
It's because I have so many reference books and how-to books and hobby books and I'll-get-around-to-it-someday books that I cannot for the love of wool and fine needles find what I need, when I need it. I will go days ignoring the obvious because I don't want to expend the energy to explore the clutter for it. It is not the sole cause of my chronic procrastination, but it is a very big contributor.
A goodly portion of my knitting book stash is on the kitchen table even as I type. Tomorrow all but a handful will be consigned to a library or another knitter. I started with the knitting books because they're going to be the hardest, next to the books my late mother gave me. (If it's a knitting book I got from my late mother, it's staying. Even I have my limits -- especially since a couple of them are Elizabeth Zimmermann works that I've been eyeballing for years!)
After the knitting books have been winnowed I'm going to be going after the rest of the house. I want to be able to function again. I want to be able to do all of the fun things that I thought I would be able to do at this stage in my life -- and for me that means being utterly and completely ruthless when it comes to weeding out the extraneous material that's keeping me from concentrating on the necessary aspects of my life.
Hey, I'm a knitter. I should be used to ripping things out by now!
*Fiber Underground Railroad. Good for orphan knitting books and that yarn that's been talking back a little too much lately ;).