Net loss: one box.

I am officially on a quest to reduce the amount of crap I take to Portland. I've already decided on new dishes, flatware and pots and pans so the old stuff is going as soon as I run the dishwasher one last time. Most of my current stash was donated by former coworkers ten years ago, and I just don't want to be reminded of that anymore. The one-offs I will keep for travel/relocation purposes and eventually get rid of up there.

Turns out that Ikea has a curiously similar set of flatware to the one I covet from NY MOMA and some cute dishware. (From my experience Ikea dishes hold up better than Cost Plus dishes, but I haven't compared them to Ross dishes yet. And I have a gift card to Ross, so perhaps all bets are off. Regardless - whatever I buy, it will be of my own choosing, for once. And it will be for one person... So if you come to visit, BYOG, BYOP, BYOB, BYOS.)

This afternoon when I got home I looked at the seven boxes of books I'd already packed, took stock of books I'd brought home from work or collected from various people over the past few weeks, reminded myself of the movers' estimates and decided ENOUGH WAS ENOUGH. I have too many books.

So I went through them again, this time with a very selective eye:

• I have one favorite bread machine cookbook that I always use. Why am I schlepping four other bread machine cookbooks up there? For my bread machine that I will not use for at least 6 months because there are only eight outlets in my apartment? Buh-bye.
  
• Books from high school and college that I enjoyed at the time, but that I will never, EVER read again yet I have on hand to make me look smart... Because, you know, so many people walk through my bedroom on a day-to-day basis and peruse my bookshelf and say, "wow, you must be so smart." Buh-bye.
  
• Not to mention textbooks on social deviance, death & dying, social inequality, statistics and the history of film which I will never, EVER, crack open again. Buh-bye.
  
• And why do I still have A Confederacy of Dunces, which I loved to a certain point but then he just got on my ever loving nerves and I know I will never, EVER finish it? And also the book itself reminds me of someone I have no desire to be reminded of? Buh-bye.
  

So several second-guesses later I'm up three bags of books to sell/give away and down one box after I added in the aforementioned work/collected books. Net loss of one doesn't sound great, but I think this is progress... I mean, emotional progress counts, right?

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Want any of the aforementioned books? Let me know by next Wednesday.