And So It Begins

I am sitting in my apartment right now. It's Saturday morning and I've got my tv-as-crack habit rolling in full force (I could watch HGTV for days on end, regardless of the fact that, technically, I have neither an H nor a G*).

My apartment looks like it's been hit by a tornado, even though only a few things are out of place. That's what happens these days, though -- I don't know where all the stuff comes from, but suddenly whatever it is, it's everywhere. Some people might take this as a sign that it's time to get rid of some things. Me? I see it as a sign that it's time to move.

Hahahaha. I'm not even kidding.

Of course, moving is the perfect time to force yourself to assess all that you own in a whole new light. Because it's no longer a matter of my current stuff-having mantra, i.e., "If it can fit in the closet, I may as well keep it." (Um, which more appropriately stated would be, "If it is in the closet, I have forgotten I own it.") Now, though, with moving day fast approaching, it's a matter of "Sure it's nice, but do I want to wrap it in paper, add it to a box and then pay someone to move it, just so that I can unpack it and put it back in a closet?" And I suspect that more often than not, my answer is going to be no.

Well, let's face it. That's a lot of steps. Moving things requires work, and I am completely lazy. And thus, each item I own must pass the "Am I lazier than this thing?" test. If I am, then the item gets thrown out or donated. And much as it pains me to admit this because we're talking about inanimate objects here, I am, actually, lazier than a LOT of things.

HOWEVER.

I am not made of stone. I'm not a horder, but I do have the genetic and astrological disposition to be one (Cancer? Anyone?). When I got divorced and moved across the country and had to give up most everything I ever owned and loved, it was a horrible experience. But the result is that I don't own a lot of stuff.

That's the good part.

The problem is that I now have a stronger-than-is-maybe-psychologically-sound emotional attachment to some of the things that I do own. Especially those things that came from a long time ago. Thus, I tend to make very odd moving decisions. Ex: I have a great coffee machine, but it's not as great as Ish's and it's big and bulky and so I'm giving it away, even though it's in perfect condition. Whereas I have a navy blue sweatshirt that I got at the GAP for my 12th birthday that is all but un-wearable for its holes, etc. and I am 100% unwilling to part with it.

If I were to go on that HGTV show where they make you declutter by sorting everything into boxes -- keep, donate, throw away -- I am afraid that I would get through the process and they'd mistake my "keep" box with the "pitch" box. You know?

So how do I even start, knowing that I'm strangely sentimental about things like 20-year-old-sweatshirts and at the same time, too lazy to bother moving my "nice" things?

Eh, I don't know. But I'm open to suggestions.

And while we're at it, I'm happy to get advice on What To Do If Your Apartment Is Entirely Cooler Than You Are.

(Photos of the soon-to-be-ours loft are available here. I did not take these, and the photos aren't of our stuff, since we don't actually live there yet.)







*This is actually one of Ish's jokes.