As I'm packing our world into boxes and bins, I've realized something strange: As much as it's become an American pastime to complain about how much stuff we have--how we really should throw out more/buy less/get organized/simplify--that's not true for me at all. Maybe it's because I've moved a lot, or because we've always lived in tiny condos, or because there are whole swaths of my history I have no desire to commemorate...but my experience of packing has not been of the "I'm so overwhelmed/how did we accumulate all this?" variety. Rather, it's made me oddly grateful.
Is it totally uncool to say, "I like my stuff"???
Let me clarify: nothing in these boxes defines me. I'm not overly proud of it, or excited to show it off. There's a chance you could offer the entirety of my possessions at a yard sale and not make enough money to order pizza for friends and family (Unless of course THAT DOG set up a booth to sell autographed pics, in which case you'd clean up...) But for the first time in my life, I guess I feel like I have what I need to set up camp in a new place. Before, with each move, there was always so much I knew I'd need--like there were endless trips to box stores in my future trying to make my new digs a home. I don't feel that this time. I feel like it's the life that will be new for us in Ithaca, not the stuff. I'm excited about that :)
(Omigosh, I just re-read this and it's just a bunch of pseudo-philosophical babble. Readers, I apologize. You deserve better. But I'm on day four of heavy cold meds, and that really is what I'm thinking about. Pitiful (and worse, pedestrian...) but true. I'll be back, hopefully off the meds and with a new internet connection in the great state of NY, next week!)
But if you LIKE my delusional, fogged out musings, I'll be twittering (tweeting?) from my iPhone for the next few days here. Want to see how DayQuil affects my ability to navigate a moving truck down I-90? Come on along!
And now, a question: Do you secretly like your stuff, too?