Regular readers will know that I am currently going through a process of reducing the household inventory in our condo. This is a task I perform on a somewhat regular basis, but this time, I am adding a layer of depth to the project that has not been present heretofore. (My favorite word - there are just not many opportunities to use the word heretofore.) It is as if I am my own psychiatrist (Heaven knows, I probably need one!) and patient - all at once, lounging about on a therapy sofa in a plush, yet sterile office, box of tissues nearby and a well-dressed man or woman sitting in a stuffed chair, opposite me, hands folded, with a patient facial look that says, "Come on, get on with this. My 4:00 is due soon."
This time, not only am I sorting, throwing, reorganizing, etc. but I am also examining the questions, "Why should I keep this?" or "Why have I kept this?" in conjunction with every item I touch or see. I am a big believer of sentimentality, or used to be, but now I debate why I should be sentimental about something I never see, touch, or use. Yes, all of those doll clothes I made for the kids' Cabbage Patch dolls are cute but what use are they now, especially when they are routinely stored in a plastic container, high up on a shelf that requires a step-stool to reach? Yes, all of the keepsake figurines and other glassware items sitting in china cabinets have meaning to me but, for most of them, I cannot remember from whence they came or whose possessions they used to be. Why would these possessions have meaning to my children and for what purpose would my kids want them? To continue the legacy of becoming wrapped up and stored in a box somewhere on a shelf or in an attic or storage locker?
I am beginning to conclude that it may be time to put a halt to the folly of what I will call 'legacy storage'. If the item or items have been boxed up, on some shelf in my condo - and house before that - never seeing the light of day unless the box is opened and the contents pulled out, then I see no purpose for keeping the contents, possessions, belongings, etc. Yes, Grandma's old, faded and worn quilt felt good when I was a cold child but that is a memory that only I can draw upon. My children will never know that memory and, therefore, keeping Grandma's old quilt serves no purpose but to take up space. I have my memories, stored carefully upon the shelves of my mind and that is the best storage space possible. It is time to begin the process of halting the folly.
I had better act quickly. This will be easier said than done. My resolve will be tested.
Ancora imparo
