I don't want to live in a museum, but it's pretty close to my current ideal. For the past two weeks I've been on a mission to declutter. After a realization that I have too much stuff and was placing too much value on physical things I started a mad frenzy to clear the clutter. By no means am I a hoarder, but there were some boxes in my basement that had not been opened in at least two moves. I held on to things for all the usual reasons:
"If I don't keep these glow sticks I'll never remember that time I went to a rave."
"This size 2 skirt will fit if I have my hip bones removed."
"Maybe I will take up soap making again."
All of it is now in the trash or on its way to someone who might really need it. During my decluttering project I rid our house of nearly 1000 photographs, the majority of Henry's baby clothes and 20 boxes of stuff that I didn't need in my life anymore.
The most difficult part was letting go of Henry's baby clothing. I didn't want to part with them, but a friend urged me to open the boxes and just start going through them. As she predicted, I discovered that I'd saved a bunch of nasty, stained, baby clothes that were not nearly as adorable as I'd remembered. I decided to save a handful of things to pass on to dear friends and got rid of the rest with no problem.
Cleaning out the basement has cleared my mind and opened up space--physically and emotionally--for new things. It feels so good not to have storage and as a bonus I'm much more conscientious of the things I purchase now, as I don't want to add more clutter to my life. And if for some crazy reason Nick were to be transferred back to New York and we had to sell our house and move into an apartment again, well...I'd be ready to go.
