keeping track

Inventory software is fascinating to me and I find that I will get into a spell of wanting to identify and tag all of some things I own, such as books, dvd's, or cd's. I recently went through all of our books and starting entering them into computer, adding book covers and descriptions for them all. This inventory led to a lot of delays while I skimmed through titles I had forgotten about. Why is it that I felt compelled to buy three copies of The Silmarillion, or 2 different books on furniture and house design? Tolkien is a favourite but three copies of the same book seems a bit excessive. The furniture and house design books have gone to charity and I am still scratching my head over why I bought them. I have no design sense. I don't build anything or craft much, nor can I use drafting tools. I did find a fabulous book of quilts that I obviously snagged for the colours, since I don't make quilts either.

Earlier in the year there was a story forwarded to me of a couple that sold all their possessions to live on a boat and travel the world. They had decided it was important to them for their kids, ages six and nine, to see the world and learn by doing, rather than sitting in a classroom. Upon reading this, initially I was struck by the wild desire to do something similar. Sell everything, buy a Westphalia and tour the country. It seemed rational at the time, this wild flight of impulse. The world was dragging me down and I would simply refuse to play along. Slowly though, reality popped in for a chat, and I realized I would miss my books. The security of knowing that the Oxford English Dictionary is at arm's reach - the two volume magnifying glass version not the skimpy one volume codensed - the sense of knowing that I can be struck by insomnia and pick up a book for distraction, this all coalesced into being resigned to not giving up my stationary life just yet. I still yearn to be brave enough to fling all the possessions out the window and just go, but for now I will be content with the occasional escape.