I helped some more people move today. This time a family that we've known for a long. They were only moving up the street and no dumbwaiter was involved. Seriously, that dumbwaiter is/was a fire hazard.

First, next time I'm asked to help someone move I want to more specifics. Moving is crazy difficult...lots of steps. Am I helping pack boxes? Put the boxes in the moving van? Unloading the moving van? Will there be food? Are you paying me? teehee.

This time was rather mind-boggling. Maybe because unlike the other two times, it involved 5 present family members and 1-3 absent ones. (college, etc.) There was a gaggle of helpers. All with a gazillion questions. And lots of piles of stuff. Lots. They wanted to get it all done today. That wasn't happening.

Helping them made me realize...we, as a country, save/have a lot of stuff. I want to cut down on how much stuff I have. If I have to move tomorrow, I want to be able to pack...and know that everything I have will be used in whereever I'm going.

I'd been allowing my belongings to float around, accumulate and pile up in a fit of passive rebellion. I didn't want to be my mother, the near-epitome of organization. The lady can whip up a chart at the drop of a hat. It was a adolescent thing that I clung to for too long. I called it organized chaos...to be polite. No more. I'm cleaning up and cleaning out. Letting go is hard of stuff is hard sometimes. But it feels good to put things in piles to be listed on eBay (can't be Etsy'd...not vintage) or donated, or just trashed/recycled.

Changing...ever changing. And learning.

Post Picture: Scraps from work on my project. Loverly, no?

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