As of the end of the month The Girl and I will be living together, and in an attempt to make the move easier, I’ve been trying to pare down my possessions - with varying degrees of ease and success.

Get rid of stuff from the kitchen? No problem. My bachelor style mis-matched set of bowls and plates will be shown the door, along with the many coffee mugs I have not ever used. I will retain the important items, namely the pint glasses, martini shakers and knives.

Clothes are pretty easy to sift through as well. Anything that hasn’t been worn in the last year gets stuffed in a trash bag that will go to Goodwill. I did hit a snag when considering the pair of white bucks I’ve owned since high school (last worn at a Halloween party circa 1996, but dodged a bullet by deciding to eliminate two other pair of shoes. The bucks stay, as do the piles of t-shirts I own. I have too many cool tees that I can’t bring myself to throw out until they start to fall apart. Also - socks with holes in them. Those are right out.

Now, the hard part: my books. It is against my very deepest nature to willingly part with a book. Thus the ongoing agony, as I winnow my collection and mark titles to weeded. It would be nice if I could make this move having enough shelf space for all my books, but I do not count on this happening. My criteria for eliminating titles is just not stringent enough.

First, some books get a free pass simply because I love them and find the idea of living without them abhorrent in the extreme. I will always have at hand a copy of The Lord of the Rings or the twenty-odd volumes of Patrick O’Brian’s Aubrey/Mathurin series. Then there are books which I will keep for sentimental reasons. I may never read Danny, the Champion of the World again, but I’ll always own it.

This leaves a lot of books as candidates for disposal. Some decisions are easy. That copy of A Civil Action? I cannot recall during what fit of madness I brought this home, but let’s face it - I am never going to read this book. Out she goes. Some are difficult. My volumes of Rafael Sabitini - I loves me some Sabatini. But these are also easily available through a library. My conscience and I split the difference - Scaramouche and The Sea Hawk go, while Captain Blood stays. During this process the book in question is removed from the shelf and inspected, perhaps while I dip into its pages and consider ‘important’ questions: will I read this again?* What if I wanted to read it again but didn’t own a copy? Is it still in print?

Still, I’ve done pretty well. Folks will be shocked at the amount of books I am exiling.

* The fact that I’m considering what books to re-read when my to-read pile hovers around 200 or so titles is probably proof that I am a little crazy.