Here stuff, there stuff, everywhere stuff, stuff

As some of you know, about a year or so ago I packed up all of my belongings into a borrowed truck (actually several trucks) and moved across town. This was monumental in so many ways. I had lived at my place of residence for approximately eight years. I had grown accustomed to the roomy old house with large walk-in closets. And I was moving into our home with my dear Cynical. And it was very significant that I was able to cram all of my stuff into our tiny little house.

I think I have mentioned before that in that move I had to shed a lot of stuff: clothes, books, sundries etc. It was a big deal and I felt cleansed by the whole thing, as if I had shed a load, and I guess I literally had. Life felt simple. Less clutter meant a less cluttered mind.

And as I think about an impending move, even though it may be months away, I am a little excited about the opportunity for a refreshing purge. It will feel good to get rid of some of the stuff we've been tripping over or perhaps find a more suitable location at the new place.

I realize that you can have as many yard sales as you want, donate as much stuff as you can cram into a car and think you've made a dent in it all, but nothing, no nothing compares to moving. Asking yourself questions like "How much do I love this? Would I be willing to pack it up, drag it into a truck? Haul it across town? Balance it up a flight of stairs and then find a new home for it?" Amazing how many items just seem to lose their significance upon such review.

So, even though we have miles to go before we even put the house on the market, I have started a little purging. I began with a box strategically located outside of our office. In that box I have started putting anything that doesn't serve a purpose, that doesn't hold a near and dear memory, that I don't use any more or that's simply in the way. It makes me a little sad to see how quickly said box is filling up. Do I have that much stuff? Did I waste that much money? Where did it all come from? And. . . should I feel guilty for dumping this?

I feel a little guilt shedding some of the stuff given as gifts. I know that they were given with the best of intentions, but our intent is on having a fluid, less cluttered lifestyle and I just can't justify socks with ducks on them or a photo frame with a much too sappy sentiment chiseled into it. I tuck such items into the bottom of the box, hoping they won't be spied and questions. My motto now is: I guess ours is not to question why, ours is but to purge and lie.

I also am amazed at what we have amassed in the way of yarn and books. Seems my propensity toward both cannot be squelched, but I can't think of a better way to spend my disposable income, so some paring down and purging is in order there as well. I just have to keep my eye on the prize: simplicity (and a lot less stuff to move).