Twelve Boxes

Packing. The most fun thing of all. A couple of weeks ago, I bought twelve of these:

sboxI decided that what wouldn’t fit into these wouldn’t go. This includes books, kitchen stuff, etc. Now, it’s not as drastic as it seems. My moving agreement allows me to leave clothes in the dresser drawers and the contents in my two-drawer file cabinet as long as it’s locked or taped securely shut. But the rest of the stuff. Dear GOD, the stuff. I have been tossing photographs right and left. Double prints of everything? Seriously? I needed TWO copies of a blurred flower arrangement from my father’s memorial service in 1990? No, not really. I’ve pulled almost all photos out of the frames (see header photo) and I’m leaving the frames behind. I’m not sure what I will want in the new place. I am taking some of my artwork, but I’m not sure where I will put it or when I will put it up. I just need to get into the space and see how we fit there first. And papers. Papers from my paralegal days, papers from my MT courses, the list is endless. I have only lived in this house for 13 years, and I left the ancient stuff (college textbooks, childhood novels, etc.) behind me when I moved to Colorado. The amount of stuff that accumulates in just a little over a decade is truly astonishing. And I’m not even a collector!

On the up side, I think I have narrowed down the books that I want, and that includes cookbooks. I did the final photo purge yesterday. I haven’t tackled the kitchen because I’m still using stuff, but I’ve been thinking about it. G was going on about dishes, etc. I decided that I’m going to use my mother’s Wedgewood wedding china (at least the dinner plates and salad plates) and I’ve contacted a china replacement place that buys china to sell the cups and saucers and the bread and butter plates. I drink coffee from quart-sized mugs; I will never drink tea out of a tea cup unless I am in London and decide to have high tea as a fling. Why keep them? My mother wouldn’t care, and she would be thrilled that I’ll eat mac and cheese off her wedding china. Why the hell not?

Then there are the trinkets…little gee-gaws that one accumulates over the course of simply living. Fridge magnets and the like. I haven’t bought things like this in ages, because I have been consciously looking at need vs. want, but I still have plenty from the past. Good lord, I could go a long way to piling up a land fill just with my own junk. And that’s just one small life. And I know I’m not nearly as “accumulated” as most folks. It’s just scary.

That’s not saying I don’t think I should have things that I like or that bring me joy. It’s just making me think really hard about whether or not ANY “thing” fills that category anymore. Artwork, yes. Good kitchen items, yes…used over and over and over, they become cherished parts of one’s daily life. And yes, the rice cooker is most definitely coming with me! But otherwise, damn, I just don’t WANT a lot of this stuff anymore.

Friends say, wait, don’t toss it all right now because of an emotional situation. I agree to an extent, but I was feeling a lot like this before the move was even in the wind. I find myself wanting to travel light. I want space in my life and in my surroundings. I don’t want to trip over or walk around things. I want to open every door in my house all the way to the wall and have nothing hidden behind them.

So, twelve boxes. This includes stuff for E, although he’s got a few baskets in addition, too. Once we get unpacked the boxes will be stacked in the closet. And when/if the time comes to move again, the twelve boxes will be the limit. Who knows, by then, maybe I can knock it down a box or two.

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About GratefulGran

A little bit of this, a little bit of that...
This entry was posted in moving, releasing, relief, space, things and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Twelve Boxes

  1. efrompdx says:

    I admire your willingness to toss stuff (and by toss I’m also including giving away and donating). One day I will have to do the same thing, and I’m not looking forward to it at all. I have sentimental attachments to things. They remind me of happy times or people I have loved. Those things are hard for me to part with. Good thing I have no intention of moving right now!

    Twelve boxes… wow.

  2. Pingback: A Year of Nines | Granny Starting Over

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