I've finally brought the last of my books to come and be with me (no, they weren't in a storage unit; I don't even have a storage unit). I feel complete once more, having them all again. It makes me want to read them all again--and it also makes wonder why I still own certain titles. I actually got rid of about thirty books, which is unheard of for me: usually I like to keep everything, even if I didn't like it, just to remind me of what I've read.
So I've been organizing my books (which is, frankly, one of my favorite things to do; I probably missed my calling in life as a librarian). On my one bookcase, I have the books I haven't read, some of my favorite books, and my movie books. The movie books all get to be on there because they're such weird sizes and shapes that they really work best on a shelf: they are absolutely thrilled to be altogether there. The rest of the books I organized by category and then set in neat, accessible stacks. It's ridiculous how happy it made me to have them all set in place.
And there I was wondering what I'd even done today, besides getting up from the breakfast table at nearly eleven. Well, I did some organizing, some arranging of my desk things and folders, some laundry (including much hand washing), and, um, that's about it. Did I get a lot done, or not very much? I don't even know. It seems like I was busy, but like what I did shouldn't have taken the whole day. Well, I did read some Star Wars and watch some David Tennant interviews, too. And that's just the thing: despite the mild weather, today was simply a winter day.
December gets all the credit for winter because Christmas is the winter holiday and it's in December. But winter is really more about January and February. Even though February is the shortest month, it always feels like the longest because by the time it comes around, winter just can't end soon enough. Winter's about dark mornings and evenings that grow dark before you've even had a chance to have dinner, days that stretch across cold and blank spaces. Clouds of rain or snow or pale skies that ache for the sun's summer warmth. The shorter, colder days make you want to hide away in a blanket and not do anything; yet the blankness that results from the absence of heat also makes you feel like getting things done, being active and lively. And there is always so very much to do during winter: summer is the vacation season, not winter.
Lazy and busy; that's winter, and I suppose that's me today. Somewhere right on the line between the two opposites.