So I made the leap ... sold the house, quit my job, left my family and friends, to start anew in the City of Philadelphia with my someday-to-be-husband. The lead up to the move was ridiculously stressful and the source of many arguments, mainly focused on how much stuff I had and why it didn't all need to come with us. Yet somehow I could not get my head around giving away or leaving behind things I really liked and already owned only to have to buy them again later, just so we didn't have to move them?? Did every clay pot from the large garden shed have to come? Well, no, I guess not - so I left a few there, gave a few to mom & dad, and took the other 45 with me, including of course the biggest and heaviest. The moving guys just grimaced. And now they litter the side porch and back yard like those hundreds of pots at the roadside antiques stores on Rte 7 in The Berkshires. (That's the pots, not the moving guys.)
Of course my clothes were another source of contention. How much clothing does one person need?! You still have tags on this stuff!! Do you have 2 of these jackets in the same color?? How many pairs of shoes do you have?? How long have you had those shoes in the box that have never been worn? In a hurry to pack, because we didn't leave enough time, most of my clothes went into white Glad garbage bags, unmarked of course. They now litter the 2nd and 3rd floor like ... well, like a small landfill.
And since I couldn't and wouldn't give up any of my stuff, we now have 4 end tables, 2 dining room tables, 14 dining room chairs, 4 beds for 2 people, 2 microwaves, 2 TV stands, 6 bedside tables, and lots of french country furniture in a grander house in which it does not fit. It all looked so wonderful in my little Colonial in CT, but everything now looks so much smaller with these high ceilings and large rooms. So we called Salvation Army and got rid of 1/4 of the things we paid to have moved down here. Of course when it comes to which items we're keeping, more arguments arise, as inevitably I want to keep the nicer stuff, of course that's mine, so most of Mark's stuff "has" to go. We are slowly making paths to move from one room to another.
I figured moving day and the first few weeks in the new house that needs more painting than I have the strength to acknowledge, would be stressful, so before I left CT I looped Kanye West's song "Stronger" into my ipod in 4 places on one playlist so I am reminded multiple times daily that what doesn't kill me makes me stronger. It's my current mantra. (Don't send me any comments on Kanye West please, I just like the song.) So as I hit obstacle after absurdity, I chant my mantra. And as I do that I just hope that it is true.
