“She has far too much stuff for the size of her living
space. I don’t know where we are going
to put all of it. There are just so many
boxes and she can’t seem to let any of it go.”
This somewhat frustrated statement was said by my father
over lunch while discussing my grandmother’s recent move to a new assisted
living facility. She has moved four
times in the past seven years: from a
moderate sized three bedroom home, to a two bedroom apartment, to a one bedroom
apartment in a retirement community and finally to her current independent
assisted living facility. Each move
included a downsize in bedrooms, storage and general square footage of living
space and so each move involved a resorting of possessions to determine what
was precious enough to keep.
I pointed out that he lived in a very large house, much
larger than my grandmother’s when this series of moves began, and that if he
were to try to move into a space the size of the apartment she now resides in
he’d too find he had far too many possessions.
I mentioned that I thought we humans tend to accumulate stuff according
to the size of our living space. Maybe it’s
some left over instinct to gather and save as much as we can during times of
plenty in order to be prepared for times of famine, but whatever the reason we
seem to be almost compelled to fill up every corner. Of course the problem is that, unlike food,
stuff isn’t doesn’t get used up…so we just keep on accumulating.
Now, I’m not making this observation from the back of any
high horse. I look around my living
space and there is an overwhelming amount of evidence that I have TOO MUCH
STUFF. The mound of laundry piled up in
my bedroom which, because I have so many clothes, has been sitting unwashed for
longer than I care to admit. Or the
cupboard full of enough cups, mugs and dishes that, if eating alone, I could go
nearly an entire week without washing a single coffee cup, glass or dish. Or the stacks of fashion magazines that I
will one day utilize to make an epic collage.
Or the twenty reusable shopping bags hanging in my closet which I have
never once taken to the grocery store all at the same time.
I think about the times in my early twenties that I moved
across the country and only took what would fit in the trunk and back seat of
my car. Through epic yard sales and
round after round of giving things away, I would cull my belongings down until
they fit into the required space yet each time I returned I was towing a U-Haul
trailer.
I currently live in an apartment that is just over 600
square feet plus a small storage space in the basement. This small space manages to contain a
comfortably sized living area, a tiny bedroom, small kitchen, a bathroom and
two large closets. Prior to moving here
I lived in a 1,200 square foot, two bedroom apartment with a dining room,
moderate sized kitchen, living room, bathroom, minimal closet space and a
storage space twice the size of what I have now. When I moved I sorted through all of my stuff
to get rid of the things I’d no longer have room to keep. During this great sorting I came across boxes
of things my hands had not touched in years.
Including one box that, during the entire time I lived in that apartment,
I’d never unpacked. It was full of
things I’d thought important enough to keep and yet they were not important
enough for me to ever question where the missing items were.
I think a lot of the stuff I keep is like that. Things I don’t want to let go of for
sentimental or ‘might be useful one day’ reasons. If I have the room to keep in somewhere, in the
back of a closet, under the bed or in a storage unit, I will hang on to it for
as long as I can; especially if I forget that I even have it.
