three plastic bins and tennis elbow

The move continues. It’s like a bad dream that never ends. Just when I think I’ve got one room all cleared out, I spot a cabinet that has managed to hide from me. I open it, and its contents spill out onto the floor. Along with an explosive release of dust particles.

(The people in the stock moving photo above seem so carefree, happy and clean!)

I grab another bin. Separate items into piles: give away, sell, store, move to condo. Fill bin. Schlep bin to car. Aggravate the tennis elbow I’ve developed in my left arm. Fill car with bins. Drive to condo and unload. Return to house. Repeat.

It’s a crazy way to move. Especially the part about putting the bins into a grocery cart once I reach the condo. I can just fit my three full bins into one cart. I roll the cart from the parking lot to the elevator, then up four flights, then down the hall to our new place.

Of course, we had a couple guys with a truck move our furniture. (We’re not that crazy, plus our cars are too small.) But since the house hasn’t sold, we have time on our side and thus the luxury (curse?) of verrrry slowly moving over the smaller things in small batches.

Three plastic bins at a time.

This process has confirmed without a doubt we have far too many things - things that have sat in closets, drawers or cabinets long enough to collect a rather thick layer or have tarnished or faded.

Far too many things.

At the end of the day, who’s going to count them? If so, does the total mean anything at all? Have these things somehow made me feel better about myself? Have they filled some void I’ve not been willing to recognize? Do I really still need to hold onto the matchbook collection I had as a kid? Or the “do not disturb” signs? Or clothes I haven’t worn in ten years? Or wedding gifts (our wedding was in 1975) we’ve never used?

These bins are heavy, I tell you!

I think I’m really going to love feeling lighter and freer. Those are the operative words these days as I try (and usually fail) to find room in the condo for our stuff. Less stuff feels like more now. I have a greater appreciation for those things that haven’t hit the cutting room floor.

And I feel like, even though our living space is considerably smaller now, I actually have more room to breath.

new digs, big print

I've been busy nesting in our new place. I do love this part of moving.

A few weeks ago, John Hans made a 30" x 40" print of an image I made in Uganda this past December, "Girl in Red Dress". I hung it yesterday in our new home. I love walking into the living room and seeing her there.

downsizing

"Are you changing the truth, or is the truth changing you?"

Eddie asked me this not long after my first trip to Uganda, shortly after I had dreamt up the idea of Change the Truth.

It was an amazingly astute question. One that I continue to ask myself.

The biggest change is about to happen. This week Eddie and I will begin moving our stuff to the small apartment we bought in September. The new floors have been laid and polished, the fireplace has been built, bookshelves have been installed and the shades on the windows replaced.

Each year when I return to my big (six bedroom), old (built in 1915), rambling house after being in Uganda, I wonder how in the world can two people (Eddie and I) justify living with such excess. There are rooms we don’t step foot in for days! There are closets full of things we haven’t touched in years! There are stacks of books, clothes and “keepsakes” we have managed to ignore for decades!

Yes, we’re downsizing, or as a friend who has already done this smugly calls it: rightsizing.

And I’m terrified.

Eddie’s wanted to do this for years. He’s tired of shoveling snow, pulling leaves out of the gutter, replacing broken furnaces and worn out roofs. He’s done with home ownership. It was exciting years ago. Now it’s a pain, and frankly, it’s difficult for him given his issues with Myasthenia Gravis.

But me? I like our yard, the tree lined street, the mail carrier coming up our sidewalk and the kids playing basketball on the driveway next door. I like the way our stairs creak and the absolute quiet that surrounds me each morning when the sun peeks through our bedroom windows. I like having so much wall space I can still feel like I’m a gallery owner. I like peering into our children’s bedrooms now and then, even though Abbie and Max don’t live here anymore.

There are so many pros and so many cons. Believe me, I’ve made countless lists over the past few years. Each column is long.

Well, the pros finally won out, and now we are schlepping our things a few blocks away to the fourth floor of a 12-story building on the Plaza. It’ll be cool to be right across the street from a park and just steps away from great stores and restaurants. Our carbon footprint will decrease in size. We’ll feel more urban. We’ll only keep and use those things we really need.

In a way, it’s like starting over. Fresh with a clean slate. Getting married to each other all over again. Designing a new place. Picking out some new (smaller) furnishings. Deciding on new paint colors for rooms.

I bought new dishtowels. And new pillows for our couch.

But change. It’s scary and difficult. Lord knows I’ve shed some tears over this upcoming move; I’ve questioned the decision a hundred times. But change can mark the beginning of something exciting and adventurous and can open us up to so much we hadn’t considered before. And getting rid of all the stuff we don’t need... I think we’ll feel lighter and freer!

Did I mention there is always free hot chocolate available in the lobby?