Piled Up ’til They Reach the Sky

I may have mentioned once or twice (a week, for a year) that we’re moving.

Which of course has required us to box up every single item we own. That is a fun thing to do. I would highly recommend it as a nice Saturday morning activity should you sometimes feel that life is just too happy and you need something to make you crazy.

We’re moving from about a 1000 square foot house into an apartment that, my best guess, is around 650-700 square feet (please, I have no idea. Spatial relations are clearly not my strong point).

This means that we have to get rid of a few things. And, oh, this brings me great joy. We sold about 50 books at the Half-Price bookstore. We’re selling Bart’s desk and chair, the Love Sac, several bookcases, our bar stools (which we bought for our apartment long ago and have sat unused for the last three years since our house did not actually have a bar), and a few other random things, like a laptop case that came free with Bart’s computer.

I just don’t like owning a lot of things (shoes excluded). I am very quick to get rid of things I don’t like or need or have room to store. I like stream-lined. I like uncluttered. I like open empty space. I am just not that sentimental. If something is broken, torn, no longer useful, or otherwise just junking up my life, I am more than happy to be rid of it. If we paid for something, but it no longer serves any function to me, I don’t care that we’re just donating it to Goodwill. The money we spent on it is not a good reason to keep something I do not want.

I get asked on occasion if I buy a ton of books and the answer is no. I do not. I can’t think of the last book I bought for myself (I buy a reasonable amount of books as gifts, but never for myself). I love using the library because, not only is it free, but when I’m done with it, I can return it. I don’t have to find shelf space for it. I don’t have to pack it and unpack it every time I move. I don’t have to dust it or worry about it for the next sixty years. Thank heavens for the library. And that’s pretty much how I feel about most things.

I’m reading a delightful little book my mom lent me called Things I Want My Daughters To Know. One of the chapters is called “Travel Heavy” and she talks about how she always overpacks and how you should too. And, well, I just can’t get behind that. Ack! Stuff! Stuff that you will invariably have to drag around, from the car to the airport to the hotel and then back again.

When my mom and I were in Boston recently, I incorrectly remembered what T station (and if we’re being honest, what line) we were supposed to get off at and we ended up walking, suitcases, purses, and backpacks in tow, over two miles to our hotel. Talk about a time you’re glad you didn’t “travel heavy.” (Also, talk about a time where you apologize a hundred times to your mother for being too dumb to have double-checked the location).

I am so excited to be living somewhere smaller, with less stuff. And maybe that makes me weird, but it also makes me happy. If I had a life motto, it would probably be, “Live Light.”