confessions of hedgehogs, books, and boots

confession: i heart hedgehogs. i heart hedgehogs more than i heart chocolate and almost as much as i heart books, fast cars, and dancing. exactly 26 months ago i held a miniature hedgehog courtesy of a traveling petting zoo and i immediately wanted to live with one. i sent papi a picture on my phone, gushed my new love, and asked if we could get one.  in my household a majority vote is needed to enact a major household change. papi loves all animals and therefore was guaranteed  to vote with me for a miniature hedgehog since wizard might have discouraged my new love by asking practical questions such as “what does a miniature hedgehog eat? does it need a cage? will a miniature hedgehog or its cage smell musky? can a miniature hedgehog cohabitate safely with two cats? why do we need a miniature hedgehog?” wizard generally supports me having everything i want…except a zoo…or unhealthy relationships with fucked up people. papi is keen on living in an apartment zoo and papi and i have healed through countless unhealthy relationships with fucked up people, so we’re more lax about those things than wizard. fastforward 26 months–i don’t have a miniature hedgehog. (wizard did, in fact, ask all of the above questions and some of the answers didn’t score well on the objective scale of “is this a good idea to pursue?”) on sunday i found out that hedgehogs are in the category of “arguably poisonous mammals” (wiki “poisonous mammals” for more info) and now instead of wanting a miniature hedgehog i’m aiming to be reincarnated as a regular-size hedgehog because they are clever little badasses.

confession: the last time i moved to a new residence was 3.5 years ago. during that move i condensed five bookcases to three bookscases. currently i’m attempting to downsize three bookcases to one bookcase. books are my friends. how can i cut out two-thirds of my friends? (other bibliophiles are asking why i’d want to.) due to my recurring life theme and blog confession of wanting less stuff, i beg myself to please, please, please clear bookcases, clear closet shelves, clear the pantry and the linen closet and all the stuff in the cabinets under the bathroom sinks. yes to more space, yes to more time, yes to more freedom, yes to more creativity, yes to more peace, yes to more adventure, yes to more sex, yes to more sleep, yes to more love, yes to more laughter, and yes to subtracting as much other stuff as possible. after six months of giving books to friends, donating books to prisons, and selling books to used bookstores, most of my books are sitting on three long shelves of a single bookcase.

confession: 2.5 weeks til the moving truck shows up at my doorstep. the cats have had their trial run getting drugged to sleep through a plane flight. i drop off another bag of donations to goodwill every single day.  the liquor cabinet is emptying. the candles and incense are burning. I bought a new cold-weather-package all-wheel drive mini-suv and i’m psychologically prepping to sell the sportscar convertible. i don’t need a dozen pairs of cowgirl boots in philadelphia but i’m saving that shedding task for last because my native austin feet have danced in boots my whole life and i’ve already ditched the pairs that were easier to give away. damn. i didn’t expect boots to be the hardest to release. (i figured the car or books would be harder.) the boots have carried me longest and farthest and happiest and most passionately and dammit if i don’t end up keeping them all in spite of my desire to let go.

 

 

 

 

 

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About angel joy

love is an action verb. i live love in action.
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