What would you do if someone told you that you had to lose two-thirds of all that you have? I told myself that and it’s hard!
Eventually I’m going to be moving. I can’t navigate the different levels of my house nor maintain the building and surrounding yard. Even with the help of family and neighbors, the time to downsize has come. If you haven’t yet, someday you will consider living somewhere smaller and of less maintenance. I recall an apartment I had that consisted of one smallish room about 15 by 20 feet, a galley kitchen so small you had to stand to the side when you opened the refrigerator door, and a bathroom so small you had to sit to the side when you…when, you…umm, you know. Anyway, that would be a good size for me now.
Instead I now live in about 1900 sq. ft. of house, ten rooms each fully furnished, and every closet and storage area filled to capacity. The plan is to move into a four room, 700 sq. ft. apartment, give or take. And boy is there a lot of giving going on!
Everybody knows the “rules” of keeping a handle on one’s stuff. If you haven’t worn it yet this year, donate it! If you haven’t cooked with it in the past six months, get rid of it! If you haven’t read that paper since your last tax filing, shred it! (Copies of tax returns notwithstanding.) Those rules work well under most circumstances. But these aren’t most.
What do you do with the roasting pan that you use only one time a year at Thanksgiving but you have plenty of storage space so you let it hang out for the other 364 days? What should become of that big puffy coat that you wear only when it goes below zero and that only happens once every 3 years? What happens to the clock shaped like a football your father gave you for Christmas when you were ten?
More than one person has told me that stuff is stuff. You’ll haven’t had twenty people over for Thanksgiving dinner for 15 years and if you want to roast a turkey it will be a small one and either get a disposable pan or deal with what you have. It has been below zero once in the past 12 years and you didn’t go out that day anyway. And it took you 3 weeks to find that clock in the back of the garage.
Yep, stuff is stuff and there’s still going to be plenty left. So when it comes time to downsize your life, close your eyes, pick two of every three things to shed, and move on. I’m getting rid of the roaster and coat.
Now, that’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?