Packin' up, gettin' rid of stuff - Pt. 2

Although it felt really good to see the clean, empty house in Philadelphia, I still had to confront all of the shit I owned when I returned to my parent's house in Greensburg.

It's great, though, because my dad is a lot like me when it comes to throwing things away (or I guess I should say keeping things). As I was going through my tools, for example, I would find odd nuts, bolts, hooks, and screws.

I would ask, "What is this? Could you use this?"

And he would say, "Well, I don't know. But I'll take it."

So I feel better because I didn't have to throw it away; and he will feel better in the event that he actually uses the thing that he took.

I went through a second filtering process that allowed me to purge some more belongings that I don't need; and simultaneously another sorting process that forced me to decide what I might want to see or touch in the next year or so, and what I have to forget for a while.

It's very strange to plan for spontaneity. Strategically packing boxes and suitcases so that I can come and go, quickly and easily. Suddenly, decks of playing cards, bottle openers, and sturdy socks have become very essential.

Of course, I can still hoard. Finding spaces in drawers and cupboards at my parents' house is easy. But I keep seemingly useless things because I'm sentimental about them; I like to look at them.

So, inevitably, I'm giving stuff up. For a little while.

Art work from friends and family, bric-a-brac from my yellow bookcase, my yellow bookcase, a great glass carboy for wine-making, ceramic teapots, and a lot of books & movies I never want to revisit now but I certainly will when they're 3000 miles away.

This kind of planning doesn't really leave a lot of room for a home, which supposedly has all these things that I'm packing away. While I know there will be times when I'm grateful for living out of only a couple suitcases and a backpack, I'm sure there will be other times when I feel like a lonely ex-patriate.

(For those of you who read ex-pirate, please remember and write down your first image upon finishing that sentence)

Change is a given. My parent's house doesn't look at all like where I grew up. My neighborhood in Philly will have transformed a few times in the next 10 years. And my suitcases will probably evolve, too.


3712 Brandywine by Ashley Hayes (the Aussie couchsurfer)


PS. I hope y'all don't think I'm materialistic because I talk more about the stuff I have than the people I know. I'm not getting rid of anyone -- at least not on purpose. So you'll all get your weepy goodbye eventually, especially if you buy me enough beers.