I once thought it would be an excellent idea to buy vintage books and papers and sell them on Etsy. I still think it's an excellent idea. For someone else. In my brief experience, I found it too much work for too little reward. Maybe if I were a scrapbooker or altered art-maker or a paper crafter of some sort, I would have found it really enjoyable. But I didn't.
The part I like is seeing what other people make and find. Lindsey, for example, has just the sweetest tutorial for a last-minute Valentine card. It's so cute that even I may need to make one.
This realization leaves me with an awful lot of stuff I don't need and no longer want to accumulate. Children's books. Ledger pages. Old coloring books. Color prints from a French dictionary. Too good to throw away. Too much to keep. And so I have whittled down the collection to a reasonable size (maybe the equivalent of a small dresser-drawer full) and here's how I'm finally getting rid of it: It has an expiration date. Just like a gallon of milk. As soon as I'm back on my feet and up to hauling boxes, I'm going to destash like I've never destashed before. If the paper isn't gone by the sell-by date, it has to go anyway. It will be no good. It will have expired, just like a gallon of milk.
I imagine that when the sale season rolls around again, there still will be paper things I want to buy, like old greeting cards. And if I run across something too good to pass up, I'll certainly get it. Last summer I found a pile - like 20 or 30 - of tiny, never-used ledger books, and they sold as fast as I could list them. I think those ledger books bought a week or two of groceries.
But I'll be less inclined to give the sheet music and old books a look. They'll find good homes with someone else. I'm very much feeling the need to focus more on fewer things. It's finally dawned on me that I can appreciate what other people make or have without needing to make or have it myself.
That leaves just one little detail: the actual expiration date. If I commit to a date, I have to stick to it. So: April 30. This is more painful that I thought it would be, I have to admit.