I probably have mentioned before, that Mr. Betterhalf and yours truly are going to move to a new apartment in October. We have mastered the biggest obstacles successfully so far: we bought a kitchen together without breaking up, and we managed to decide on a sofa – a red sofa, yay!!! We paid a visit to IKEA first in order to get attuned, and watched other couples’ behaviour:
Woman to husband: “We have to go back to the bath department, I need to look at this thing again.”
Husband (with baby in trolley), hesitantly: „But I’d rather go outside with the baby.“
Woman (passive-aggressively): „Right, OF COURSE! I will do it BY MYSELF, and you go wait outside!“
Then, after leaving IKEA with no purchase other than scented tea lights (you have to, right?), we went to the grown-up furniture stores and bought said things.
Now that the big issues are solved (big even though the kitchen is really small), it is now down to the little things – organising and cleaning out. Because you don’t want to move with stuff that you don’t really need. So the other day, we started to clean out my basement. It is amazing and shocking at the same time to see HOW MUCH STUFF I have gathered over the years. And kept over the years, too! At first, it was easy. These board games for age 8-13 can go, yes. And the blinds that I kept, because you might need them again, they can go. But then I opened a box…. my exercise books from 3rd grade in primary school?!? But, but… o….k… they can go. Timmy? TIMMY? My stuffed animal dog, whom I named after the dog from Enid Blyton’s “The famous five?” Noooooooo! My high school t-shirt? Nooooo! The kaftan from India that my Mum got in the late 60s….. Nooooooooo! Ok, so I kept that. Brought it into the apartment and washed them. And washed them again. They smell of years in the basement. I cannot possibly have them anywhere but on the balcony. I should throw them out. But, … TIMMY?!?!
Today, while Mr. Betterhalf is away for the weekend, I went on to my drawers. And that was easy. After throwing out a forest worth of papers, my drawers are not even half-filled anymore. And I am thinking: why do we tend to keep all kinds of stuff? Why is it so difficult to let go? Is it, because the things don’t go away, they don’t break with you, they don’t die, they don’t move to another country? Is it because they are reliable memories, and even if it is just the ticket to a museum you visited 8 years ago?
I did let go of a lot of stuff today. I tried not to think twice about the stuff I chucked out. And now, I feel lighter and accomplished. And when you have to let go of people, it is kind of the same. After debating in your head and battling for them to stay, you let go. And in most cases you feel later. The same applies to terrible jobs or apartments that you cannot stand anymore.
Let go, it is fun in the end!
Yours truly, madly, deeply!