Spamfall was heavy this weekend, and surprisingly informative. Apparently: "it's sunglasses that give attitude not clothes" (With Our Sunglasses - People Will Think You're Famous); "Un-Insured Americans Need Help Now" (probably true, but hardly my problem); offers to solve my problem with "Declined sherry Application ferrite" (actually, I have plenty of sherry); and, just to represent the bulk of my inbox, "how shame if u dont increase ur little size". Oh, the shame.
Meanwhile, the tidying continues ...
Pile after pile of books are coming off my shelves; all the limping torn-up rescue books from the bookshop, the fairy tales and sexology and picture books. I think I've discovered the source of all dust, and it's not me, after all; it's ancient paper decaying into silky pale motes that cover each tidied shelf as I move onto the next one up. I start by dusting, and I'm going to have to finish with dusting. There's a problematic side to spending all my evenings tidying, though; no weekly strip. But it has to be done. I'm averaging 5-15 books wastage on each shelf, and already the shelves are clearing. More will follow; I've not got to de-duping my Man from U.N.C.L.E novels yet, for example (though I have discarded almost all of my Biggles).
Kinder toys, kinder toys; keep them or chuck them? My little Museum of Cultural Ephemera, all those wonderful, tiny, bright little things. The only answer is to interrogate each individually. Are you wonderful? Are you where you should be? Are you entirely what you are?
Luckily, they can't talk back.