No new music today, readers. I’m working on a piece for Koi Dance called “Sunrise: Variations on Grieg,” which (so far) combines flute, xylophone, and marimba to explore variations on the famous theme from Edvard Grieg’s “Morning Mood” from the Henrick Ibsen play Peer Gynt. “Morning Mood” is probably track one, side one of Romantic Music’s Greatest Hits; everyone who has ever seen a Bugs Bunny cartoon has heard the piece:
Unfortunately, yours portly is pretty worn out and, despite my best efforts, I could not sustain composing last night. Yesterday was a “marathon” of sorts for me. The way my classes and lessons shook out, I was going nonstop from about 10 AM to around 6 PM without a break. That’s after working Sunday for an open house at school and spending most of Saturday moving.
That is not to complain, but to explain—posts are going to be a bit sporadic (especially in terms of quality—gulp). I’ll catch up on content for paid subs as soon as possible. With the house closing approaching imminently, moving the last of my meager (but, it seems, endless) possessions into our new home is taking top priority. Indeed, the plan is to take another load of stuff up to the new house after work tonight.
There’s also the litany of service providers that need contacting, both to disconnect existing services and to establish new ones. Fortunately, I’ve had the utilities squared away at the new house since we purchased it in November.
Regardless, moving everything I own (and donating a large chunk of it to Goodwill and my neighbors) has really driven home to me how much junk we accumulate (or, at least, how much I accumulate). It’s amazing how many items I’ve found that, at the time, it seemed I needed to have, only for them to end up gathering dust on a bookshelf or forgotten in a closet. Some of these items are gifts or hand-me-downs, but I wonder how much money I could have saved simply by consuming less.
What’s interesting is that, from about 2016-2021, I did just that. I put myself on an extreme budget for many years, going to great lengths to avoid spending any non-essential dollars. It got unhealthy: I wouldn’t buy, for example, sunscreen for working outdoors (fortunately, I don’t do that too much, so hopefully I’ve avoided carcinoma). I wouldn’t even allow myself to buy a fountain drink at a gas station on long trips. I went years without making any frivolous purchases (beyond the occasional eating out).
In spite of that extreme frugality, I somehow managed to accumulate a vast quantity of stuff, most of which I don’t need and never used. It’s become dramatically apparent how frivolous so much of it as I have to engage in the time-consuming, muscle-building, back-paining process of weeding through all of it.
Yours portly likes to nest. I’m very bad about surrounding myself with bric-a-brac and books, the latter of which I don’t read enough. Moving has, at least partially, cured me of this habit. As I unpack at the new house, however, I imagine I’ll find myself nesting once again.
What random bits of accumulation are lying about your homes, dear readers? Perhaps we could support one another in a bit of spring cleaning.
Godspeed!
—TPP