On January 1, 2012, I started the official process of moving into my mom and stepdad’s house to live with them while I “got back on my feet.” It took me months to move out of my then-husband’s apartment, one box at a time, by myself, to my car, and one car load at a time to my mom’s.
I am tired of carrying boxes.
I have a lot of stuff that I don’t use, but that society insists I need. This post is about some of those things that other people think I need.
I have been going through boxes and boxes that I brought from my previous apartment, and re-packing the things I think I will truly use, and leaving behind a really impressive “yard sale” pile. If it doesn’t sell, I’m taking it all to Goodwill, because I am tired of looking at it.
My mother was observing the process when I found a small bulletin board and commented, “How many of these do I really need?” I have four. I mused on the subject, and decided to only take one small bulletin board with me to the new flat. Then I announced I didn’t need it, and I would put all four into the yard sale pile. My mother immediately defended the bulletin board. “You’re going to want that!” she insisted, “You can put it next to where you pay your bills!”
I had already decided that all bill-paying supplies and office supplies would be kept in a one-drawer end table next to my couch.
I put the bulletin board in a box. She looked on disapprovingly.
When I found my iron, I announced that, since I hadn’t used it in years, I wasn’t going to take the iron or my ironing board either. If she disapproved of my bulletin board discard, she was at arms about the iron. “You need that! You are going to need that! When you don’t have one and you have to go spend $20 on a new iron you are going to wish you had kept that! Listen to your mother, I know best.” (She actually said that).
I continued to insist that I wasn’t going to use it, but she was very determined I should keep it. I suggested a compromise: I would keep the things I thought I didn’t need and she thought I did in a box at her house, and if I did wind up needing them, I could come get them. She agreed. Bulletin board, iron, ironing board – all into “stuff limbo.”