Over the years I’ve donated, lost, given, and thrown away more stuff than I can remember. At this point I feel lucky to have the barest of essentials still in my possession. My proclivity for off-loading is astonishing and far reaching. My closet has an echo. Even my computer is a barren landscape. A very few digital files of a legal nature populate the hard drive, other than that, booosh, clean as a whistle. Emails don’t linger, either; I keep the friends who send them, though.
And books, I cling to those like the luxuries they are. I had to draw the line somewhere, didn’t I? How could I donate To Kill a Mockingbird or The Book Thief or Little Green Men? Well, I couldn’t and I didn’t. And I won’t.
The thing is, I’ve moved a lot. Fourteen times since ’94, twenty-two moves in all. A person gets tired of hauling stuff around. The movers, those strong, helpful, heroic men and women, always make out like bandits. Always. Neighbors, too. Anyone who enters my field of vision when the mood strikes doesn’t escape empty-handed. I pressed my old lawn mower, a benighted apparatus if ever there was one, on a dog walker. The UPS guy, who showed up on Moving Eve, got off lightly, carting a pair of floor lamps. Upon my neighbors I bestowed a fireplace screen and accompanying tools. All they needed was a fireplace. Did I dream of becoming a not-for-profit wholesaler as a kid? It’s possible.
Believe it or not, there is an upside here. Housework takes minutes if you’re a clean freak, seconds if you’re not. But vacuuming takes longer now, there’s more carpet when there’s less furniture. And, if the opportunity presented itself, I could move to Ibiza tomorrow. I’m no longer held captive by and anchored to stuff. There’s a certain freedom, a liberation to downsizing, even when it’s unintentional. A happy accident.
All that’s missing are the opportunities to travel light now that I can. I’m ready for adventure and excitement and a change of scenery. Perhaps there’s a Department of Traveling Light I should notify? Oh, yoohoo, I’m available now. Please get in touch via the Comment Box below. And, be a dear, what’s the dress code there?
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