Where is My Stuff- Unintended Consequences of Moving
Many years ago my parents did their best to teach me how to get rid of things that I no longer needed. It wasn’t easy because I could almost always find six reasons why I had to hold onto everything I owned. In the early years it was easy to justify everything because I really didn’t have all that much.
Over time that changed. Various apartments, a wedding, children and all that come along with those things made me the proud owner of stuff. And I can even say that by the time I moved out for good I had become pretty good of ridding myself of unnecessary items. If it didn’t work, have or have sentimental value it was shipped off to good will.
As I mentioned over the years I have managed to accumulate quite a bit. I am not a minimalist or filthy rich so I am careful not to get rid of everything. Also, I have a garage. It is full of all sorts of good stuff. While I cannot park a car in it, I can say that it is organized and easy to walk through.
The garage is similar to a Venus Fly Trap. It is not just beautiful, but dangerous too. There are certain boxes that were packed many years ago, shipped from place to place, finally coming to rest in the garage.
And that is one of the unintended consequences of moving. I know that some of these boxes contain items that should be shipped off for greener pastures. I know that there are things that I don’t really need, but they are locked up in the boxes. Boxes that are neatly stacked against the far wall of the garage. For the past six years they have sat quietly awaiting the moment when I choose to dig into them and let them breathe clean air and sunshine again.
Another unintended consequence of moving is the loss of some important items. They are not critical, but they are meaningful which is why I never got rid of them. For example there is a book that I want to show my son. I know precisely where used to keep it. It was on the third shelf of the bookcase in my den.
I know this because once it fell off and hit me in the head. I won’t tell you what I was doing or with whom, but suffice it to say that I was in my early twenties and single. I know that it made it out of that apartment because I remember smiling as I packed it. That is a handful of moves ago.
There is no question that it made it out of the apartment. The only question is where. One of these days I will dig out the boxes and rummage through them. The main reason that I haven’t is a lack of time. My time is at a premium and this is a task that will take some time. I am unwilling to just ship the boxes off sight unseen. I need to go through them, but I won’t say that the thought hasn’t occurred to me.