C'est la vie

Again I am humbled by the recent uptick in readers. Thank you.

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As I pack up my belongings to move to the new apartment, I realize how much “stuff” I have that I never use. This draws me back to the dream of scaling down to the bare essentials and moving into an RV or Van. Have I abandoned this dream? I hope not. Perhaps my goal for the next several months is to put out a “free box” on the corner every week. I live in the type of inner urban area that “free boxes” are a common sight.

Perhaps I could take note of the 100 Thing Challenge  and try to get myself down to maybe 500 things first. I wonder how many items the typical Van or RV fulltimer owns?  How do you count a “Thing” anyway? Would a bed count as one? Or does it count as multiple items with the mattress, box spring, headboard, rails, etc……  bah,  why get hung up on the details! I’ll count it as one and move on!

I purged once before, about a year ago when I sold the house in the suburbs but that was with a different mindset. I was pushing through the darkness trying to force myself into a healthier space. This time around, it would be with a much clearer head. Besides, I kept some of the oddest things that my wife used.  I don’t know why I thought they were important to keep back then. Things like 3 different sets of table cloth settings, multiple plastic baskets she had in the bathroom drawers, kitchen utensils I don’t even know how to use… the list goes on. I don’t need to carry these things around. There isn’t any attachment to them.

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So I’m taking tomorrow off work to pack up, and Saturday I have friends helping me move the big stuff. Hopefully I can get everything out of the old apartment by Sunday and then spend the day deep cleaning. Should be fun.

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B.D. has invited me to dinner at her place Friday night. I’m a bit apprehensive as there might be some pressure to stay over, and I am not sure I have the willpower to say no. I miss being touched. I don’t mean sex, I mean touch. A gentle hand on my shoulder, an arm around my waist. The quietness of tenderness.  I fear that my physical attentiveness will be misinterpreted as emotional connection. We have had several “talks” and I think we are both on the same page, but this new interaction puts a twist on it. I suppose it is time to re-state our positions over dinner, before we tumble into dessert.

Jacques Dutronc ET MOI, ET MOI, ET MOI  60's French 

The material, it rips and tears apart

I sold my house in November of 2010. The housing bubble had burst, and home values were falling fast. I listed about 8% lower than the comparable homes in the neighborhood, and sold in 3 days. The selling price was right at my minimum that I needed. I feel very lucky. There are homes in that neighborhood that are still for sale, and now they are at a significantly lower asking price.
Downsizing from a 3 bed/ 2 bath ranch on 1/3 of an acre was no easy task. Every item was a memento that weighed 20 tons on my shoulders. How could I possibly get rid of that chipped coffee cup that held 50 different ink pens? That huge table top kitchen appliance we only used once? There were memories attached to every material object in the house.
And that was my answer. Material Objects.  I wasn't getting rid of the memories, just the physical items.
I moved myself into a small 1 bedroom basement apartment and slowly started moving over the items I thought I really needed to survive. It was surprisingly a very few items.  Family members came and took their needed mementos, then close friends, and then friendly acquaintances. There  was a disturbing amount of stuff left over. And it was all useless “stuff”. I contemplated a garage sale, but spending an entire weekend pawning my junk to strangers in hopes of receiving a couple hundred dollars was not my idea of a positive experience.
I settled on Craigslist.
The Free Section.
I hauled EVERYTHING into the driveway. I posted the ad with my address. In 20 minutes I had 20 cars blocking the street hauling everything away.  In 4 hours all that was left would fit into one trip to the Thrift Store donation center.
I considered myself downsized.