accumulation

there is a lot of stuff in here.

i don't mean to have a one track mind, but it's difficult not to think about the packing up and getting rid of and selling and donating going on. the theory was presented to me that accumulation becomes like a habit. you never actually mean to keep a lot of the things that you have, but it's a habit not to give them away. you... get accustomed to certain things being in your house. just in case. not that you ever need the bulk of those needlessly kept items, but it feels somehow more secure to know that they're where you can get to them easily. just in case. and you always convince yourself that the moment you get rid of a certain thing, the following moment you will regret it, so you just keep it instead. just in case.

just in case of what? i mean, it's not like i'm going to throw out baby photos of me or nick or derek. my old letters are safe from the general toss. if there is a unique thing like that, it's a non-issue on what to do with it. and there are plenty of practical items that i don't really want to waste the money replacing when we get to the new place. but that's just it. big deal if the dishes end up breaking along the way. there will always be somewhere to get a new broom or some more cleaning products. so the task now is to sort out what's needed, what's wanted, and what else is tagging along with us as an added luxury, or perhaps an extra burden. i'm having the hardest time figuring out when i'm crossing the line from just one more thing to just one more box to just one more big fat headache that i'm keeping. just one more, just in case.

does "in case" happen more than i think? does it ever happen? and so what if i don't have the ability to dress up like a saloon girl on a moment's notice? that dress probably doesn't even fit me anymore. still, it got me to wondering how the accumulative bug sneaks up on us. one guess might be that the smallest stuff in our lives multiplies when we're asleep. another thought is that the cats are secretly out shopping for tchotchke knickknacks when we're sleeping. those both seem like viable enough excuses to me. in the end i'm left with a love-hate relationship going on with my own property. doing away with certain things seems nearly unthinkable - until i realize the alternative of becoming a pack rat.

you've all been to that person's house. they can just never seem to throw anything away. pass through any room and you're likely to find an assortment of old birthday cards from people they hardly ever knew, expired coupons for products they would never buy, a multitude of projects they will never finish, and that scent of... what is it? simply dust, or is it desperation? suggest a garage sale or house purging to one of these people and they gasp as if you're choking them. you shake your head and silently think about what a sad state of affairs they'll end up in, burying themselves in useless junk. it's beyond clutter. the piles you have in your house, the ones with a bit of unopened mail and a few old magazines, now seem completely manageable. but then again, you could stand to throw out that old sweater you haven't worn since before you voted in an election.

for the record, i have yet to find an expired coupon in my clutter. that's right, it's still only clutter at this point. there are little boxes of things like refrigerator magnets and other things that can at least have a quasi-practical application, if justified properly, but the number of boxes headed on to new homes is already in the double digits. what a relief to know that we're going from one small place to another, or else i might be tempted to fulfill the stereotypical prophecy and expand to fit in the space alotted to me. there are sometimes good reasons for a person like me not to have an extra bedroom. i'm protecting myself from my own stuff. just in case.