Don't go away mad.....just go away!

There comes a moment in every pack-rat's life when it's time to let go. Now is the time for this rat. My name is Debra and I am a magazine junkie. For years now I have subscribed to Canadian House & Home, Style at Home and Architectural Digest. All great for keeping up with the latest design trends, but not so great for my book shelves, table surfaces and every other nook and cranny available for storing them. For a very long time, I was diligent about containing them to neat magazine holders all lined up side by side on shelves. When I ran out of space on the bookcases, I started piling them ever so neatly on table tops, desk tops, oh hell, just about any unoccupied space available to me, but now the gig is up. The magazines have taken over the asylum. It's time to say adios to my treasured collection of glossy pages for once and for all. What I once considered a useful reference library, has become an ever-tightening noose around my creative space. We are talking about twelve years worth here folks. That's 432 issues. That, of course is just those 3 subscriptions. I also save all the one-off magazines I buy like House & Garden, Metropolitan Home, House Beautiful, Veranda, and don't forget Golf Digest! (how did that one sneak in there?). I asked myself how many times I actually referred back to these countless founts of inspiration and the answer was...almost never. What was possessing me to hang onto them? Some women collect shoes, I collect magazines. Problem is, I also have too many shoes. So, something has to give. I think I have known for quite some time now that this day was dawning. It really started last year with the end of a couple of other eras in the design world here in Toronto. It's been a few months now, but it has taken me this long to accept the departure of host, Marilyn Dennis from Cityline and the regrettable changing of the guard at House & Home. I miss Cobi Ladner as editor of that magazine so much, it's as though I have suffered a death in the family. For months now, I have felt like Kate Winslet in Titanic as she hung on to that door in the water after the sinking of the ship, crying out "Jack, Jack, come back". Only instead of the floating door, it is stacks of magazines threatening to sink me. So, as it is very early in the morning at this moment (another sleepless peri-menopausal night), I will try now to get a couple of more hours sleep before I begin the massive heave-ho to the recycle bin. I'll probably have to divvy it up over a few weeks as I'm pretty sure the weight of them all will be too much for one bin load. Now that I've made my confession, I have to do my penance. So forgive me Cobi, it's nothing personal. In a way, it's your fault I could never part with them. But now that you're gone, so is my attachment. And besides, I need my space more than I need you. Amen to that.