Moving definitely has a way of making you re-consider the value of your possessions.
We have just moved from a six bedroom rented mansion into a three bedroom shoebox with my mother and brother. That’s four adults and three kids squeezed into three little rooms, all in the name of saving for our Airstream Adventure (thanks for putting up with us Mum).
Five truckloads of boxes and furniture were dropped off as I juggled exhausted babies and tried not to hyperventilate.
Five. Truckloads. Most of which is still sitting on the verandah. There is no way even half of it will fit inside this little house.
Right now, I just would love to drop every unpacked box off a cliff. Where did all this junk come from? I feel overwhelmed and really pissed off that we, well mostly I, have managed to accumulate so many things.
We need to downsize dramatically. As I unpack, I’m trying to cull. In the back of my mind is the fact that in less than one year we will be living in a 28 foot Airstream and I won’t miss 99 per cent of all this stuff.
But the crazy thing is as soon as I open a box and see what’s inside, I think “I can’t possibly give that away.”
The road to reducing is proving to be a long one.