It is seriously hard having to go through all your belongings and try to decide "should I keep this track and field ribbon from grade three?" or "are these leg weights worthy of being dragged all the way across the ocean" or "who even listens to CDs anymore, I should chuck these on Dan's behalf so he doesn't have to make that hard decision."
(Incidentally, it is key when trying to pare down another's belongings that you not tell them about it. I have been told by Dan that the CDs, all billion of them, are coming. OR ELSE.)
Dan and I decided that there's no point in putting anything in storage because (let's face it) we don't have really nice stuff yet. And the few quality items we do have are going to go with us.
Getting ready for the movers.
Note the green chair that's loosing it's stuffing...not coming.
Note the sweet little black and white cat...coming.
But despite the fact we really didn't believe we had a lot, turns out we do (or rather, did); over the past two months I have ruthlessly gone through bathroom cabinets (the cosmetic clutter alone took me a whole night!), kitchen cupboards, clothes, boxes of photos, shelves of linens, walls of pictures, and cupboards of clutter.
I managed to pawn a few of my wares at the neighbourhood garage sale, and re-homed a few other things with my family. I thought I was done! I was golden! I was the Queen of Organization and Declutter! Welcome to my kingdom of clean.
Then I had to start getting ready for the movers. I had to start pulling things out of the tidy little hiding places I'd made for them.
And that Dan was just a few childhood t-shirts away from being able to open an ebay store.
Why yes I am ashamed and have no idea why I'm putting this photo on the Internet.
So if nothing else, this move has been a crash course in economics for me. It has taught me the hard lesson that no matter how much I love the picnic plates decorated with tiny lemons, or how funny and ironic that beer mug is, I have to step away from the consumer madness and realize A) buying those plates still won't make me a picnic-er; and B) the funny and ironic beer mug always ends up looking trashy and lame when the shopping buzz has faded.
So I need to walk away and think to myself, "Would I really be willing to pay money to ship these across the ocean with me?"
The answer is usually no.
Except for her, where the answer is always yes.
Who wouldn't take me to Switzerland--I'm adorable and awesome. I'm adorably-awesome, you could say.