Packing

There was a time when I could stuff everything I owned into the trunk of my ’66 Valiant and drive off into the sunset, or sunrise, depending on what the situation called for. I crossed the country several times, water bottle poised over radiator to prevent overheating, reveling in the freedom. It was good thing. And, it meant moving required only a few hours and a full tank of gas.

Eventually I graduated to a small U-haul. But, still, a half day, max. Sigh. I’ve since acquired all sorts of stuff. A lot of it is good. I’ve traveled a bit and brought home some nifty nick knacks filled with memories; netsuke, Inuit carvings, Turkish inlay, those breakable thingies from Italy. And, I’ve got tons of photos. None of my most precious possessions are terribly cumbersome; they’ve all fit in a suitcase at one time, and probably could again, if I was seriously determined. They’re manageable, and well worth toting to the new house. The books are worth bringing too, although the husband is less convinced. I love books. I spend way too much money on them. Did you know that a bookcase equals more than eight very full boxes of books? Currently my garage is full of books. My first order of business in the new house (once the blue carpet is pulled) is to head to Ikea and pick up a truck load of those $60 bookcases. I know they’re cheap and don’t last, but we’ve got a roof to buy; real cabinetry will have to wait.

Besides the books, there are wedding gifts; the china that we use, the china that we don’t use, the glasses under the stairs that we forgot we owned. There’s the furniture, most of which I could leave behind but can’t afford to replace. And there’s the kidlette too, of course. Although, as children go she doesn’t take up all that much space, she’s never been one for disposable toys.

So there it is. Consumerism won. In one decade I went from a car trunk of necessities to a 11,000 lbs of stuff, and what once took a few hours to pack now takes, well…a bit more.