I woke up from a dream pretty PO’d this morning.

In my dream, I’d run to the back of the library to get a couple of boxes.

I needed the boxes for the giant stack of magazines that I’d found up at the “free section”.

There were a bunch of vintage rock and roll magazines….irreplaceable….and a bunch of vintage comic books….irreplaceable….and a bunch of other….irreplaceable…..magazines.

That’s what my hurry was all about.

I needed those magazines.

I remember telling Jenny on my frantic way past her….on my way to the empty boxes stacked at the back of the library…that I’d even “skip the booksale” because I was loading up on all these….irreplaceable…treasures.

When I got back with my boxes, though, the magazines were all gone.

There is a real competitiveness when it comes to loading up with vintage crap.

Someone stole my highly curated pile.

I was PO’d.

I was PO’d because every single magazine that I’d found was really “kind of cool”.

“Kind of cool” is going to be the death of me, though.

I look around at the stuff I’ve accumulated….and, although it’s all somewhat useful, and all of it is “kind of cool”, I don’t know that most of it is really all that important.

How much stuff do I own that I salivated over initially because it was “kind of cool”?

How much do I hold onto because it’s…kind of cool?

How many thrift store purchases do I talk myself into because they’re cheap….and “kind of cool”?

How much stuff sits unused but necessary….because it’s kind of cool?

That is some crazy stuff.

Those were some cool magazines in my library dream…..and I’m sure that I would have enjoyed reading them.

And, if I never found the time to read them, I know that I would have enjoyed owning them.

Owning more “kind of cool” magazines would have been….kind of cool.

 

The booksale is Friday.

Cool.

 

“You can’t get stuff no more” Blind Willie McTell