My house is getting smaller and smaller. Storage has become a big issue. Beloved informed me yesterday that he decided he had to move back home as a base of operation. He was hoping to be in a new apartment by this time but needs a second job to accomplish this goal. For the last month he has been staying with friends while he searches. Finally, the truth of what needs to be done has hit him. No more living in limbo.
Since he graduated, I have been purging, reorganizing, and making room for his belongings. How do I fit an apartment’s worth of stuff in our little bungalow? I put up three shelving units in the attic. Wow, look at all that floor space. Yessssss! I bought eight 18-gallon bins, all still sitting in my living and dining rooms, ready to head up to the attic. So if the floor or ceiling depending on the way you look at it holds up, we might make it.
I need one of those $19.95 television products, the one that sucks all the air out of a bag filled with comforters and throws making it a mere four inches thick. I imagine a whole linen closet full of those bags. The only thing I’m worried about is if they get pierced or fail, will the resulting explosion destroy the closet?
Speaking of purging, why is it so hard? Well I guess the word itself may hold a clue. Throwing up one’s stuff, not pleasant. My house was supposed to be a starter home. I was looking forward to my dream home, with a fantastic kitchen, immense closets, and a family room that could accommodate big family gatherings. Well, that’s been way out of reach for decades.
The lovely gifts I’ve received over the years are wasting away in the attic. Would I like to display the Peanuts’ Schroeder playing a Grand Piano with skating Snoopy on top? Damn straight. Would I like to display my Christmas village with operating railroad? You know it. Would I like to show off my Guy Noir bobble head? Yes, indeed-y. Would I like to display the exquisite Asian tea set that Queen Maker’s dad got in Okinawa? You betcha. These are possessions that I will never get rid of, yet will never see the light of day. Sigh.
How about the one room I never, ever use. I could make it into an office or my artist’s sanctuary. I could get rid of the couch. No one sits on it. I could get rid of the electronics. No one listens in there. I could get rid of the coffee table. No one takes coffee in there. Would it be wrong for a home to be without a living room, especially when no one lives in it? Or is that taking purging a little too far?
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