On moving and madness...

 ...and why I seem to have an infinite supply of stuff.  Make it stop.

The boy and I have been packing lately.  This time (like every single time before it), I was sure that it would be simple.  I have moved so many times in the past few years (to college, home from college, to college again, to a house, to home, to the apartment...you get the idea) that I just figured I must have been cutting down on my clutter as I went, right?  I distinctly remember giving things away.  I think...yes!  I left my boomerang with my little sister!  I gave clothes to a thrift store!  I even threw away the random pictures that had covered my college walls (though it pained me to do so)!  Surely my mass of stuff would be so low that packing would be simple!

No.

On the bright side, I am pretty sure I could make a kick-ass maze with these boxes.

See, I forgot that, while I was progressively getting rid of things, I was also collecting things.  I was essentially trading things for more things.  All those clothes I gave away?  Doesn't make a difference because I bought more.  Remember that marriage thing we did?  That came with lovely, expensive gifts that now need to be re-packed.  If anything, packing is more complicated now, because instead of throwing away stuff at a whim, I have to check with the boy.  Half the stuff is his stuff and while I may think that the newspaper clipping about the Denver Bronco's team from last year does not matter, he needs it.

Packing takes forever.  Partly because I keep running out of boxes and scavenging for more, and partly because everything I grab to pack has to be looked through or tried on or remembered in about a million ways.

High School yearbooks: thumbed through.  Completely unexpectedly, I actually got nostalgic and happy looking through the little notes and pictures and memories.  Then, of course, I laughed a bit at how over dramatic we were and at some of the horrible clothing choices we made.  And make-up choices.  And hair choices.  Mistakes were made.

Though, to be fair, I regret nothing about this picture.  Dead Poets was the best.

Grandma's old music box: sat listening to the song over and over and remembering twirling in the bedroom in big skirts and being obsessed with tea sets.

Stuffed otter on the bed:  started laughing while cuddling our memento of St. Cuthbert (apparently otters blew on his feet to warm them.  Saints get cool stuff).

Pictured: St. Cuthbert and his otter foot-warmers.

Mop:  wait, we had a mop?  All this time, we had a mop?  If I had known that, I might have actually cleaned the floor.  Or maybe not.

Hand-me-down skirt from early high school: it fits!  Holy crap, it actually fits again!  Unfortunately, it still looks hideous.  Maybe I should let this one go.

Anyway, the real thing that moving has made me think of is simplifying.  De-cluttering.  Getting rid of the things in my life that are not really necessary or really beautiful.  On my study abroad trip, I lived for four months with just the possessions I could carry in my backpack.  I miss that simplicity.  Until I have it. 

We are moving.  To China.  For at least a year.  And for that year, we are bringing over a suitcase of clothing.  Maybe two.  And our computers.  That's it.  That is what we are going to live on for a year.  In another country.  Simplicity will be achieved.  And I'm both terrified and crazy-excited.

 I am going to this land.  And who needs stuff when you have great walls?

At least I know that if I panic, all my stuff will be waiting back in America for me.  All that crazy, ridiculous stuff that I use to define who I am.  Stuff like all of our pictures from our wall of Bob Dylan.  Stuff like Tyler's record collection or my DVD collection.  Stuff like all our books and pictures and notebooks, clothes and jewelry from years ago, hats with logos from favorite sports teams.  It will be here.  Waiting.

And I am pretty sure that I won't even miss it.