I am tired of looking at the same things. I want to redo my apartment at minimal expense. So I start with paintings/framed photos.
M is very helpful. "I never liked that camel painting. Get rid of it." I bought this at a small art gallery on upper Madison years ago. There's no camel in it; the "camels" are actually coyotes. I loved it for a while, but no longer. My mom says she wants it.
"That painting of the three palms looks very 80-ish. I'd get rid of that too. And I hate the frame, too dark." I remember buying this one at a gallery on Spring Street in Soho. It's by an Israeli artist. Still, I need a change. My mother will like this one too.
The round navy Oriental rug that I bought at ABC Carpet years ago no longer fits my more contemporary preferences. And I never liked a round rug under a rectangular table (which will be delivered soon). My mom has a good place for it. I no longer do.
I clean my bookshelves of books I know I'll never read. I throw out old framed photos of Alexander that I have in photo albums.
When I'm done, my apartment looks as if I'm moving.
We pack up M's car, not a simple task.
We say our good-byes. I go back into my building, then hear my doorman yell, "Your friend's calling you."
"I forgot my stuff," M yells out her window. I run upstairs. Grab her suitcase, briefcase, and coat.
Alas, my good friend is now packed and on her way.
It isn't painful saying good-bye to these things. If anything, it feels good.
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