My last day of work was May 30th.
I left work with a plan.
That plan has failed spectacularly.
The plan was to get up each day, do some stretching, do some blogging, and then get on with all the other wonderful things that needed to get done in order to start on our trip. Purging. Packing. Visiting with friends and family.
Purge - check.
Pack - check.
Visits - check, check, several more checks, I'll get the cheque.
Stretching? Um... no. Well once, so let's just call that no.
Blogging? You're reading it.
FAIL.
Okay, sure, I got the time sensitive stuff done.
I purged.
I know of people (strange, strange people) who, when they are moving, take the opportunity to go through their belongings and get rid of stuff. I also know of people (even stranger) who have established rules, especially for kids toys, that have something old go out when something new comes in. While I applaud these people I cannot count myself amongst them. I am not a purger. I'm not a hoarder either. I keep stuff. Not too much stuff, but definitely stuff. And I don't make an effort to go through it and get rid of some things at various seemingly logical points. I like my stuff, that's why I got it in the first place. Right?
But I gave it a go this time. And I did so primarily because I A) did not want to rent out storage space, and B) did not want to bury my mother and her home in all this crap that I don't really care about. If I was going to bury her in crap, it needed to be crap that mattered. So what mattered?
Well, the approach I took to this kinda sprang from my thoughts on packing for the trip. If we could live our lives comfortably for a year out of a 40L bag, then how much do we really need to live the rest of the time?
I've already told the heart rending story of going through my books, so I won't dwell on that painful memory again. Actually, I will. It got worse. I got through all of my books, made difficult decisions, and got it down to two piles - keepers and goers. For anyone interested in the decision process it goes like this: If a book is something that has value to me as an object - say like a first edition collection of Yeats poetry or the complete works of HP Lovecraft or the copies of the Narnia books I read as a kid - then I kept it. If it was something that I will never read again, could just get for my Kobo if I wanted to, or my father has a copy of and I can just snarf from his library without him noticing, then I got rid of it. Pretty straight forward. I will say though that actually admitting to myself that I wasn't likely ever going to read Thomas Aquinas was a bit distressing. More so for my father now that he has read this I imagine.
Here's what sucked. People then started asking me for books, and just "whatever I thought they might like". So then I started going through all of the goers repeatedly with different people in mind creating multiple piles. Now, let me just say that after having made the decision to say goodbye to all of those books (about 15 boxes worth after the additional culling for friends), it wasn't fun going through them again. And again. But I did it, and they now have good homes, and that is a happy ending.
So ya, that's what happened with the books. So much for not getting into it again.
The reasoning behind not wanting storage space was simply a math one. How much would it cost to move and store and move again the contents of a three bedroom apartment? Well, my math worked out to being able to potentially refurnish an apartment for roughly the same amount when I got back. So that became the goal: keep the things that matter, get rid of everything that doesn't.
And I have to say it worked quite well. There are a couple of pieces of furniture that matter - a green couch my brother Wayne left me for example. Keeper. The IKEA bed I've had for 12 years and broke while putting on a sock one morning, and then "fixed". Goner.
Don't ask.
Something things went to friends who could use stuff, which I am really happy about. And then a lot of stuff went to Cerebral Palsy, which, like many fundraising groups, will come by your home, pick things up and then go sell it to Value Village. A very cool notion. Quick note though. Apparently while they say they take books about 80% of them end up getting tossed. I didn't learn that until the truck was loaded and I was totally out of time to find another option, and am pretty upset about it. I live in hope that my books are worthy of the shelves of Value Village, but, given my previous note on Thomas Aquinas... well, I'll remain hopeful, for the future of those books, and the future of the study of humanities in Canada. Another quick note: I saw boxes and bags getting tossed around on the truck. I didn't hear the crash of glass, but things did go squish. So not sure how much gets to it's destination intact. I hope the majority, but I'm not sure. If I were to do this again I would take everything to a drop-off centre somewhere myself, at least that way I know it got there in the number of pieces I sent it in.
It's an interesting exercise to decide what matters, what to keep. Some things in the kitchen for example were not surprising - martini glassses come to mind. Other things, more surprising. I have this wooden spoon that I just love to cook with. Had it for years, and I use it for all of my stirring. In fact, if I'm stirring multiple dishes, I'll often just rinse it off and use it for everything. And I had several wooden spoons. This one though, I simply could not part with.
Noah and Jake were far better at it. They did wonders with their toys and other belongings in short order. I could learn much from them. I expect I will. For example, if you know the right people, Lego makes an excellent form of currency.
Without going through the litany of 43 years of accumulation, thus saving us all from a suffering similar to reading the book of Chronicles, I'll conclude purging by saying that I think I've been successful. I think I got it down to the things that matter. For sure other things snuck their way in there, and they will suffer my wrath (or befuddlement) in a year or so, but ya, it got done, and it got done pretty well.
Which leads to packing.
It got packed. It got moved. Not much left to say.
Oh, tape gun thingies can be really frustrating.
Oh, and my mom is awesome. A) Because she read this far without knowing I was going to say she was awesome, and B) because the things that are keepers, well, she is the keeper of the keepers. There's a Harry Potter thing somewhere in there but I am not going to look for it.
Actually a word on moving. I don't drive. And by that I mean, I do not know how. I, surprisingly enough, do not own a vehicle. Amazing how one follows the other. That said, I am very fortunate to have a friend with a truck, and friends with a vehicle with significant interior storage space. Between these three people and two vehicles everything got moved to wherever it needed to go. And not all in one stress filling day, but casually over the course over a couple of weeks, a load here, a load there. Definitely a nice, low stress way to do it. Highly recommended.
Visits
June has been a lot of visiting. And it's been wonderful. I am blessed with amazing friends. I really am. See above for an example. I'm also the type of person who generally likes to socialize in small numbers, like less than four. Yes I can do the bigger things, and I do enjoy them, but if I want time with people then I try to make that time one on one. It's lead to a lot of socializing these past few weeks, and with each one of those, a lot of goodbyes.
A year is both a short and long period of time, so saying goodbye can be weird. You're coming back, but not for awhile. You're accessible via email, skype and such, but not in person. And sure, you may see this friend only a few times a year, but there is the comfort knowing that you can set it up, or make a plan to set it up, or something, and that it will happen in fairly short notice if you want it to. Leaving for a period though takes that option away, or at least makes it more expensive. And losing the potential of immediacy feels odd, and kinda sad. Meanwhile this voice, presumably of logic, is mumbling away about how it is only a year, get over it. Stop whining. It's a year damn it! You'll be back before you know it and before half of these people realize you left. Unless of course they are following the blog. And yes, I know that, but yes, it's still sad to say bye. Like I said, it's both a short time and a long time.
When your days consist primarily of these three activities of purging, packing, and visiting you get into, or at least I got into, a pretty funny space. Somewhat of a funk at times. That's sad funk not a Mark Wahlberg funk, though I wouldn't call that funk either, but whatever, they were a bunch of something anyway. It's all good though. Maybe I've said this before, so stop me if I have. My friend Charles described it as surfing. Oh, that reminds me of couch surfing which I definitely will write about another time.
Right.
So Charles describes it as surfing emotions. Doing things that mess with your norm and create some form of disruption can come with a variety of emotions. Some are the classic happy and excited, others are the equally classic but less longed for fear, sadness and anxiety. All are good. All are worth surfing through. We learn and benefit from each of them. June has been really good to me that way. I expect the coming year will be as well.
We leave tomorrow.
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