On Monday I brought my trusty turntable and a lovely tea set over to ReRun, to sell. I am pained to part with these things in a small way, because they are magnificent specimens and have served me well the few times I have used them in the past four years or so. But I am satisfied in a larger way. There is the vague hope that I will get some money out of it, but mostly it's nice to get rid of stuff I don't ever use.
The hole in the cupboard has already been mentally filled by some of the mixing bowls I keep at the tippy top of the pantry. But the hole in the wall was jarring, and I couldn't stop myself from squeezing a thrift store circuit in after work yesterday, and came home with two lovely bookshelves.
I play up the shabbiness here because I love it of course. I want things to have a history, a story of their own.