Once upon a time, long, long ago, I had a catalogue of all my books.

It was a pretty cool catalogue, if I do say so myself. Books sorted into genre, publication date noted for older volumes, hardback or paperback, overall condition.

Cross-referencing for when I wanted to see what I had in the way of books in a particular series but was momentarily drawing a blank on the author's name. A list in the back of volumes I was in search off. All in a handy-dandy, purse-sized notebook that I could tote into a bookstore with me.

I put a lot of work into that catalogue.

That was also back in the days of Win 3.1, when password-protecting a file was a pretty cool thing to be able to do. For some unknown reason, I password-protected that file. I discovered this three years ago when I decided that it was 'way past time to update said catalogue.

You know what? A file password protected in the days of 3.1 isn't convertible. Not even if you still know the password.

I fought that battle for a month and then told myself that it was pointless to sweat it since only about 10% of the catalogue would still be accurate. Three months later I was sufficiently convinced to delete the old file, so it would stop taunting me.

For three years I thought about creating a new catalogue. A few days ago, spurred by shame because the R.C. has already almost completed her updated catalogue, I began.

Sixteen (handwritten) pages into it so far and I've only covered three bookshelves. I'm not even writing down all of the book titles. For an author where I know I have everything published to date, I'm just writing "all" and assuming I'll be able to find and cut-and-paste a complete title list from somewhere online.

I'm looking at the remaining four bookshelves, the ten foot shelf in the closet (stacked two deep), and thinking about the umpteen boxes in storage. I'm remembering that once I have this all written out, it's going to need to be transcribed. And you know how I feel about transcribing, right? And I'm thinking--how much does one really need a catalogue, anyhow?

I mean, seriously?

Because this is tedious, painful (whose bright idea was it to store Trudeau's Doonesbury books on the shelf near the floor blocked by the easy chair?), and boring.

Other than that, the R.C. and I have tentatively come to conclusions about what to do with mom's stuff. The Hummels and stained glass are going to a local charity shop that benefits Children's Hospital. (They sell on consignment and keep 30% of the proceeds.) It could take two years to sell it all, but a "fee" of 30% that goes to a charity we both support, as opposed to 50% that goes to an auction company? Works for us. (Let's all keep our fingers crossed that they're interesting in these items and agree to accept them.)

That leaves the Box O'Coins and the Box O'Miscellaneous. I'm taking the box BO'C to Rocky Mountain Coin to see if they know of anyone with any interest in any of them. I'm sorting out a handful of the potentially valuable stuff from the box BO'M to take by the local Antique Mall, to see if anyone there is buying inventory. That should pretty much clear the debris from the living room floor and, we've decided, bring the best results.

After that, we can return (well, the R.C. can "return" and I can begin) to the task of cleaning out the storage unit. (We should have something to show for all of this spare time, right?) Right now, I'm reluctant to haul any boxes over here until we get rid of the six boxes of stuff already in the floor.

I'm taking a quick trip at the end of this week. Out Saturday, back next Tuesday. Visiting the L-i-K-S and the girls. I'd been saying I was going back out there for the last four months and hadn't gotten the trip booked. A few days ago, I finally found a decently priced ticket.

I continue to be astonished by the ways in which unemployment (or, to be more accurate, the lack of a stable income) affects my life. And the ways in which it does not.

I spend most of my free time reading. That hasn't changed. But I take care when I'm too near a bookstore, knowing, as I do, that the special magnetic force such places exert on my brain can be dangerous to my bank balance.

Yesterday the R.C. and I walked over and had Mexican for lunch. Since we have the "frequent diner" card for that restaurant, they knew it was the R.C.'s birthday month and we got a free entrée. We gloated over the clear savings of $8.00. In the past, we would have thought, "a free meal, how cool" and forgotten to redeem it.

Don't run away with the idea that we're flat broke. That's not at all true. It's just that the first time I experienced a lengthy stint of unemployment, I paid no attention to how much money I was spending and wound up broke in three months. (And then I wound up taking contract work from the employer I'd ditched so I could pay a few of my bills.) (The second time I was unemployed, I was eligible for unemployment. That's a beauteous thing. I've never collected unemployment before and boy did it make a difference!)

Anyhow, I'm being careful this time, that's all.

I know I go on and on about this, but it's just so weird to have to think twice before buying something. It's probably good for me, though.