I think everyone loathes moving houses in much the same way they loathe corrupt politicians or child molesters; nothing ever makes it okay. Life is interrupted, your once peaceful sanctuary becomes a haven for chaos and messiness. There's always that moment when you desperately search for something you need only to realize that you've packed it already. There are all those awkward and annoying walks home from the liquor store trying to balance a tower of boxes without dropping that bottle of wine.
And personally I am always amazed at how much STUFF I have managed to accumulate. I used to move often but have now been in my lovely, smoker-friendly building for 3 years. And as I empty cupboards and shelves of their dusty and seldom disturbed denizens I am appalled at the amount of crap I've held onto. Right now I have as much stuff in my 'throw away' pile as I have wrapped and boxed up.
How much of this stuff do I actually need? The answer is almost NONE OF IT!
The logical thing to do would be to throw out everything that I haven't used in the last year. But even as I steel myself to do it I know I'm going to crumble. What are we without our sentimental keepsakes? The answer is not human. It's the epitome of our humanity to haul around chipped coffee mugs, yellowed love letters and photos (from those pre-digital days) with us so we can decorate our new nests. Without the little things how would we recognize our own space, how would we recognize ourselves amongst the billions of other people on this planet.
I've decided to celebrate my crap, it makes me who I am.
Well....
Maybe I'll celebrate after I've unpacked in Toronto. For now it's time to pour a glass of wine and start wrapping my memories up in newspaper.
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