It is now mid June and we moved into our house in mid February and I am still unpacking boxes. I swear that the story about the magic pudding is my life but boxes instead of pudding.
I can’t believe how much stuff I have, well I can really but it has hit home this move. I mean I am an only child that has not dealt with her issues regarding her mother and fathers death. So I still have all there stuff. Plus my husband hoards everything, he has mail dating back 30 years, every newspaper article that interested him at some time, he kept, however if you ask him why now he wouldn’t be able to tell you. He has old uniforms that no longer are of any use. He has things that really just need to be tossed. I can see us becoming one of those people who have to hire storage units because of all the stuff we have.
This drives me in sane; I am a person that everything has to have it own place, its own container, its own space on the wall or whatever it needs. If it has to be stored away, then there is no use having it. If I haven’t used it in a year or two it has to go. But as I open box after box, and sort through the box and place the items in to the appropriate categories, keeping and put away, or donate to charity, or rubbish and lastly sell. I have discovered that I have slowly but surly became my own worst enemy.
I have my parents things that I haven’t gotten rid off, I have old things of mine that at one time or another was important for some reason but now I have no idea, I have the things that I was keeping to pass on to my own children, I have old dance costumes that I saved so my children could have dress ups, I saved all my favourite children’s books for my kids.
Then there are all the things that I have saved from when I had my kids, all the baby things, just in case I have more children (well that isn’t an option any more), but wait I better save them because this person or that person is having a baby or planning too and they might like it (what ever it may be, from cots, jumping jolly’s, change tables, baby monitors, you name it I might have it. Then there is the endless clothes. The there is the thousand piece’s of art work they have done over the years, and now comes the school books. Te endless toys, stuffed animals (what is with those).
Ohhh it is just so hard to decide what not to keep and what to keep. I hope I work it out before the piles start getting too big around me and I get lost in it all.
I hear garage sales are helpful.
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