This afternoon I took stock of my “stuff.”
Some of this stuff will come to Scotland with me.
Some of this stuff will be stored in my mom’s house.
Some of this stuff will be donated to Goodwill.
Almost all of this stuff has a story. Extracting the stories from the things and moving on is not always easy. So, even though I’m not moving out til Sunday, I’ve started to say goodbye to my stuff….
I walked into my bedroom:
The bed is going to my mom’s guest room. I’ll see you again, my Queen-Sized beauty. My first real adult purchase when I was living all alone for the first time in Astoria, Oregon. A pillow-topped mattress with a feather-bed on top. Every night, I climb into bed and blissfully (and literally) sink into sleep.
The Vera Wang sheets are coming to Scotland. I love them too freaking much. They are my favorite luxury, the best sheets I’ve ever seen in all my travels in all my life. I’d be a fool to leave them behind.
That enormous bag of dirty laundry is an embarrassment….let us ignore it…
The guitar will be coming to Scotland with me if I can once again motivate myself to learn how to play guitar…it’s been 10 years since I started to learn, I’d hate to give up on anything I’ve been half-ass trying to do for a decade.
Bye bye Ikea rug, Target Bookcase and chair. You mean nothing to me!
I turned around. Next…
The antique vanity, room divider and old phone will be stored at my mom’s. The mask, pictures, and otherwise anachronistic bling will have to fit in the overhead bin. I got the mask in New Orleans during my deployment to the Deepwater Horizon Response. It was the mask I hid behind when I wrote my dating column for the Branford Patch.
I wore the beaded headdress on my 27th birthday. I’m sure I’ll have many opportunities to wear it around Edinburgh. And I don’t know how anyone would ever recognize me without costume jewelry and Chanel perfume.
The Papazan chair has got to go. I love it, but it does scream, “I’m in my early 20’s” and I’m just not….
I’ll go through the books with a fine toothed comb and probably donate most of them.
I’m pretty sure there is always room in one’s suitcase for one’s bright pink boa….am I right?
I can’t part with a single one of my hoodies. I love them all. Scrubs might come in handy, plus they don’t take up much room. Clothes in general will be trimmed down. Most of them went out of style in the 1960’s, anyway. Purses must be cut back, same with the 5 shelves of shoes (not pictured). I’ll probably pack my rugby ball and the bouquet I fought so hard to catch.
And this is going to sound crazy….but…
I want to bring my shower curtain.
Ultimately, I won’t know what I’m bringing and what I’m leaving until I pack my bags. It’s weird to think of getting rid of so much stuff I picked out specifically to express who I am. Of course, giving it away and moving to a furnished flat in the UK also happens to say a lot about who I am, so I guess I ultimately don’t need any of it for the sole purpose of self-expression.