Saturday Free Fall

I'm not writing. I'm not revising. I'm not even reading.
Why?
Because I'm getting rid of books and DVDs and bookcases.
I'm hunting dust bunnies as big as buffaloes.
I cleaned the fridge.
Yes I did.
The whole fridge top to bottom, every bit of food out, every sad old hippy jar of tahini, every thin hard rind of Parmesan, every last bit of withered kale. I took the shelves out and washed everything. Whew! Then I consolidated, trashed, composted and contemplated. Now everything in the fridge deserves the space. I cut up carrots, parsnips, turnips, onions, garlic, young kale, sweet potatoes and regular potatoes. I bunged them into a roasting pan and they are filling the air with the sweet smell of caramelized goodness right now. I took the tops and bottoms off a bunch of beets and I just simmered them til their jackets fell off. I have fiddleheads cleaned and in the steamer waiting for dinner.
I'm waiting for Gwen and her son to come and take away two old Ikea bookcases - Billy Bob Thornton's I think they're called.
Every time I come up from the lowest level I bring a bag of books that either has to be stuffed into my office bookcases or is going to where books go these days. Where? Well they could be picked up by a friend who wants to sort them, and sell the good ones. I don't care - I don't have time. The room downstairs - the rec room, media room, den or basement is getting there. It will be good enough after this weekend. De-cluttered, de-booked and de-DVDed. All the little photos and schottkas that I just can't part with put in boxes in the furnace room. Oh and then I must clean the furnace room. I did the laundry room. Back quite a few years ago when we decided to get a flock of chickens everyone saved up their egg cartons and gave them to us. We've never had more than five chickens meaning we've never had more than - at the most - two dozen eggs in the fridge at once. We eat them. Somehow though, everyone including us lost our minds and thought we'd be needing 28 egg cartons! Ha! And we just kept them all in the museum of hopeful thoughts and discarded dreams.The cartons were on the shelf in our tiny laundry room (we don't have a dryer but we have a vacuum cleaner, the dog food bin, the flour bin, ironing board and a whole bunch of here's hoping picnic bags. Jeesh! Now it is starting to look like adults live here. We'll just get it all perfect and then put it on the market. Seems sad somehow. Like when newly-weds get the honeymoon suite when really they could do just fine with the furnace room. The honeymoon suite should go to the old tired couple no? But I digress. The date for on the market or at least showing it to a couple of real estate agents is June 15. On June 23rd (a day early) we're going to have one last lovely party here - it will be our 10th anniversary and Jean Baptiste Day so that will be nice. We'll make a big ole chili or fish soup and fresh baked buns and salads and the daylilies will be wildly blooming their heads off and the house will be so sweet and clean. Maybe one of our friends will say "I love your house - me and my guy are buying it for our summer home - you don't have to let strangers parade through making disparaging remarks." That would be great! Because I truly madly deeply love this house and I want really nice people to own it and get it!
OK - back I go to chore number 64.
The downstairs bathroom.
Later...