About four months ago I decided to move from my sunny apartment in San Francisco back to my seaside Maine homeland.
Over the course of a month I packed up a life I’d created for myself and shipped it to the other side of the continent. During the packing process I went through a major cleanse. I donated 12 bags of clothes to Goodwill, I sold furniture and I left furniture on the street (fun fact: If you put anything on the street in San Francisco it will disappear before you turn around. It’s like magic).
The end result was 18 medium sized boxes of items I thought I could not live without. 18 boxes of clothes and dishes and memories that seemed essentially to me being me; my life in 18 boxes.
In the three months since, I’ve left those boxes packed. I’ve lived out of two suitcases and it’s been fine. Are my clothing choices slightly more limited? Yes. Does it really matter? No.
Next week, when I move into my new apartment, I’ll be reunited with those 18 boxes. In the time that’s passed, I’ve forgotten what they contain (except for my ruby red Kitchen Aid and my tea cups. I have vivid dreams about being reunited with my tea cups and food processor).
Part of me wants to leave those boxes locked away in my parents’ garage for a little bit longer. I’m tempted to start over with fewer things and just see what happens. I want to leave those 18 boxes tucked away and go back to them in a few years and review what they contain (this would also satisfy my childhood dreams of becoming an archeologist). I probably won’t end up doing this (mainly because my dad is pretty eager to get his garage back) and next week I may write you a post all about how wonderful it is to be reunited with what you’ve (temporarily) lost.
I know I should use this time with you gorgeous feministe readers to talk about gender and sexuality and, well, feminism. But today my contribution is a question about stuff. And what we think we need versus what are just items we’ve collected. Perhaps we all need to be prompted to get rid of the things that don’t actually matter and just see what happens.
Except your ruby red Kitchen Aids. Never part with those.