I’m a minimalist. An enforced minimalist. Three continents, four countries and 17 moves have brought me to this state. And I’ve learnt some lessons along the way.
By all means bring in professional movers/packers for the big stuff. But pack your kitchen and your bathroom yourself. And itemize.
Confronted with five professionally packed boxes marked kitchen and all you desperately want is the Keurig Machine and the coffee pods, (in the meantime you did find the wine), I can assure you it will be the last box you open.
Bathroom boxes? And you need some essential stuff NOW? More likely to find it in the box marked laundry, hiding below the dust pan.
And so it goes. Further tip gleaned from experience? On moving day (packing all done), send your beloved spouse/better half/other half/partner on a business trip. Or out of town. Or to work. Or on a fishing trip. Anywhere but THERE.
But pack to that packing thing. When I decided that this last move was to be the “FINAL MOVE,” I went into the basement with some 30 gallon heavy duty trash bags. I took a deep breath and started, always keeping in mind my brother’s words.
“It ends with you.”
School rapport cards from my childhood circa 1950-1960 (who on earth would be interested in this!) DUMP.
Photo albums from school and university days in South Africa (I lost contact with all these people!) DUMP.
School stuff from a daughter deceased many years ago plus hundreds of photos from those same years – DUMP.
Mementoes, novels, classics, poetry – all in Afrikaans which I’ll never read again –DUMP. (Confession – I kept one novel, a simple beautiful love story, which I will read again. As well as some poetry written to me. Sweet.)
I filled trash bag after trash bag. Four years on and I haven’t missed or needed a single article that went into those bags. A passing regret from time to time, yes. I could’ve used this or that photo for a blog. But I don’t allow those regrets to linger.
If I could only do that with my mind. There are times I wring my mental hands and a la Lady Macbeth go around muttering “out damn’d spot.”
If only I could sit down with a big old trash bag and turf out everything that serves no purpose, does me no credit, ruins my todays and tomorrows. Thoughts and memories stashed away into shoe boxes, gift boxes, plastic boxes lined up on a mental shelf.
Why should I let them hold me captive?
They have no chains or links except to more painful thoughts and memories? They have no weight, except the weight of my conscience. They have no substance. Dump them into that bag, give the whole mess a mental hug and let go.
Cyber Hugs and tons of Blessings.
"Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool. (KJV)
I’m reasoning, my Lord, I’m reasoning…
If you should care to dwell and dig a little deeper, I recommend reading