"The camera is an instrument that teaches people how to see without a camera." - Dorothea Lange

Tuesday, March 06, 2012

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.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

You were so smart to use the stock photo of the people moving -- at least, it was smart if you look anything like me when you're doing this kind of stuff. In my case, no cameras allowed. I know it feels awfully slow and tedious, but I'm confident it will all work out in a way that makes you celebrate your decision. MJ