You buy furniture. You tell yourself, this is the last sofa I will ever need in my life. Buy the sofa, then for a couple years you’re satisfied that no matter what goes wrong, at least you’ve got your sofa issue handled. Then the right set of dishes. Then the perfect bed. The drapes. The rug. Then you’re trapped in your lovely nest, and the things you used to own, now they own you.
~Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club
I move quite frequently. On more than a dozen occasions since I left high school, I have found myself packing up all my belongings and hauling them off to my latest destination. With each move, the amount of things to pack into boxes increased dramatically. Exponentially, even.
Some of the moves were impulsive ones, leaving me geographically isolated from family and friends. When I wasn’t getting lost in a cornfield somewhere (one of my favorite pastimes, up until the tornado incident…storm-chaser material, I am not!), I filled my free time with solo shopping trips, justifying the expense by telling myself I deserved to be surrounded by things that I liked. I was a hard-working, self-sufficient, independent gal. I moved out to Indiana in a hatchback Mitsubishi, and moved back in a U-Haul. I should have stuck to the cornfields.
Finding places for all my things got trickier as time went on. Unlike Indiana real estate, square footage in Massachusetts comes at a premium, and in order to move into my last residence in our beautiful hometown of Rockport, I needed to rent a storage unit to house many of these things for the two years we were there. The unit was essentially a large, expensive, off-site closet. My then-fiance (now husband) was in the Army and deployed at the time, so my brother very kindly hired me a moving company, who loaded up all of my furniture and boxes and moved them into our tiny new apartment, and then brought the overflow to the storage unit.
I envisioned trekking there to retrieve items at least a couple times a month, but for nearly two years, the unit was barely disturbed. I never knew I had so much unnecessary stuff – stuff that I wouldn’t realize was missing if it suddenly disappeared forever.
In the photo above, you see some of the items that were deemed “essential”…things that were “too good” for the storage unit. These include a jump rope (despite us having no yard and living in a second-floor apartment with low ceilings), an ornamental cross (I’m agnostic), and an entire set of Encyclopædia Britannica from the 90s that I snagged from my old library simply because Volume 8’s spine reads “Menage – Ottawa”. Come on, that’s hilarious.
I’m glad to say that after my most recent purge, the only items that remain in my care are the bookshelf, Seamus, and Encyclopædia Britannica, Volume 8. My prized possession.
I guess what I’ve learned from all of this is that the things that matter to you now might not matter at all a couple of years down the road. Love for material objects is fleeting. I wish I knew, when I held something in my hand, whether I would still love it as much in ten years. I am going to try to ask myself that about everything I want to purchase from now on, before I get in the checkout line.