My Life in Boxes

I have spent the past week in a jungle of boxes, newspaper, bubble wrap, and Netflix… accompanied by the mindset of, “Why didn’t I start sooner?!” Having lived in a 782 sq ft apartment for the past 6 years, I was firm in my belief that I didn’t own a lot of ‘stuff.’ Apparently, I did. A lot of it. The trips to Goodwill seemed endless and yet the boxes continued to mount.

The plan was to put my furniture into a 10x10 storage unit, along with as many boxes as we could fit. Any ‘extra’ boxes would be stored at my parent’s home. I told the moving company I’d have 35-40 boxes total. I had 70. The plan stayed the same, but instead of storing some clothes, shoes, and a few select items in my childhood bedroom, it’s now packed full with items spilling out into the family living room. Oops.

I have to admit, the image of my furniture and personal affects being wrapped and loaded into a storage space was difficult. We all say ‘things’ don’t matter, but let’s face it – they do a little. I like how comfortable my couch is to nap on. I will miss my bed. Yes, there will be furniture where I’m going, but it’s not MINE. And for whatever reason, that makes a difference. I look forward to my adventure.  But in equal parts, I look forward to napping my couch again someday. …it’s so strange.

The Big Goodbye