November was a giant black hole in another dimension, and everything fell into it. This is the last week of the month; I thought I’d be back in the gym this week, but shenanigans have ensued since my last post, so I’m still here… until Saturday. I will go back to the gym on Saturday. THIS Saturday. December 1st. My last workout at the gym was on November 3rd. I missed a whole month. See? Black Hole.

Meanwhile, I found out that when Black Friday comes along in the midst of black hole induced cabin fever, one’s minimalism efforts face a challenge. At the height of my gift-shopping adventure, my minimalism efforts for myself were challenged… but not destroyed.

Replacing things rather than piling things onto existing things works. I’m donating more than I’m buying because getting rid of one thing motivates me to give away more. It doesn’t work the other way around – buying something doesn’t motivate me to buy more things. (I look for specific items rather than browse.) Despite my online Black Friday activities, I now own less than I did before Black Friday. Black Friday can be compatible with minimalism!

I just dig a bargain. Outrageous bargains give permission for seasonal recklessness, and I love some occasional recklessness. I love The Body Shop with its amazing vegan/cruelty-free fragrant bath and skincare products. What can I say? I didn’t ask to be a Capricorn with an Aries moon and Taurus rising.

Also, it’s not my fault that The Body Shop created not one, but three limited edition holiday scents this year. I have to try them all, right? So I can know which one(s) to stockpile for the coming year?

In other minimalism updates news, I’m still seriously thinking of doing the unthinkable: getting rid of books. Maybe not all of them, but many of them. A lot of them. I’m overrun with books. A significant pruning is in order. Considering letting go of my books has me thinking about asking Santa for a Kindle, and this is also unthinkable. Who am I anymore?!

Could this be my mid-life crisis? Swapping out paper books for a sliver of aluminum that will confine every book I read? The idea of it makes my blood run cold. You know how a part of the cigarette addiction is behavioral/physical… the need to hold a cigarette between your fingers? I still remember the torture of that from when I quit smoking 25 years ago. I can feel it coming back when I think about no longer physically turning pages when reading a book. The feel of the paper. The cracking of the spine. The dog-earing. The flipping through. The tossing aside when I hate the ending. I love books. I feel an anxiety attack coming on just writing this.

Nah. I probably won’t do it…