Our moving van arrived today... sorta. It met us at a nearby Public Storage, where an Israeli named "Jacov" crammed our belongings into a 10'x20' space. Ten feet by twenty feet. 200 square feet. That was the largest lot available. And we barely had enough room.
Days before, after we had decided on the 10'x20' (after briefly considering the 10'x10' -- what were we thinking?), I entertained visions of a sprawling grey area, lit up by a single hanging bulb. In these dreams, I would comfortably stroll through neatly-stacked boxes on one side, and our fully-assembled furniture on the other. It was Homelessness Nirvana.
Instead, today I found myself trying to figure out where to place box after box after box after box of STUFF. Honestly, that's what most of it was. Or at least, that's what it was labelled. "Kitchen stuff"... "Bathroom stuff"... and an embarrassingly large amount of "Yacov's stuff," or "Star Wars stuff," or "Videos/CDs/DVDs/stuff."
So I've decided: time to cut back on the stuff. I always figured that the answer was I NEED MORE SPACE, which was one of the big appeals of moving. But now I know that I can't wait for the perfect house with the perfect "office"/guest room that will have the perfect shelves for all my stuff. Now I know that, somehow, some day soon, I have to say goodbye to my pack-rat ways.
But Mom -- this does NOT mean you can trash all those boxes in the basement. I will find a home for them, I promise.
1 comment:
You read my mind.
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