The Move Looms

The day of moving is moving inexorably closer... and each day I try to think of more things I can discard, give away, send to relatives, donate to the church, shred... I look at this vast accumulation of stuff we seem to have gathered with a very jaundiced eye each time I think of the awful fact of packing it into boxes (and then unpacking it again on the other end). This week, I have eliminated a significant amount of just paper stuff that we seem to collect... I made time to go through and shred all the old checks and documents from many years ago that we have (for some unexplainable reason) been hauling around the past several moves.

I found old bank statements, checks, files from as early as 1994 in an old rubbermaid bin that had been lurking in the garage. My oldest son had a great time with the shredder... I think he especially enjoyed the times when it would jam up and he could put to use all his natural mechanical skills and (after unplugging the thing at my insistence) unclog the teeth with my tweezers.

I found my long-lost professional resume and job information from my last job (outside the home, that is -- I still have a very demanding job, you know). It was good to look it over and remember that happy time in my life when I was working (I really loved working and found it a HUGE adjustment to stay home and take care of my babies at first). Unfortunately, I am thinking that, even if I have the energy to try, my chances of actually finding a job in my chosen field after the kids are raised and out of the house are probably slim to none. Since I had the kids so late in life, I'll definitely be a bit old to try to begin again ten years from now... no... dear husband is going to just have to support us all for the duration.

That one useful (I suppose that could be debatable) item was about the only thing I kept out of a huge rubbermaid container... think about it -- we've been hauling that thing around for the last nine moves (counting moves within a city). That is ridiculous! Each time we go through this, I resolve to get rid of stuff as we go along... and then fail.

Thus, the only way I seem to be able to force myself to go through and get rid of the stuff we seem to be drowning in... is when an impending move is upon us. Even at that, it is obvious that I miss certain things each time. Perhaps that is why we must move so often... if we lived anywhere longer than, say, three years, perhaps we would be unable to dig ourselves out.