Downsizing: The Draconian Approach

Moving into a still smaller house again raises the eternal question: Why do I have so much stuff? My Stuff tends to fall into these general categories:

Books
Clothes
Classroom stuff
Furniture
Kitchen items
Papers
Linens
Memorabilia

The first three categories are necessitated by my career as a teacher. For example, I have a wonderfully useful professional library that I constantly enhance with new titles. But I've been attacking the other categories with ruthless weeding. We all have to do this sooner or later, unless we acquire with Howard Hughes rapaciousness and leave a mess for our descendants to clean up (I won't do that to Rachel). At any rate, my weeding project has forced me to realize some things about myself.

My life is very different from what it was. For one thing, other than making a few treats for my students my baking career is pretty much over: I can't handle the carbs. I baked one batch of muffins last Fall, thinking I'd put them in my lunches like I used to do for Rachel. I ended up throwing some away. I don't cook much these days either, except for an occasional batch of soup or stew that I freeze in serving portions like Bema used to do. I still have regular company, which is why I want to always have a spare bedroom. But I 'll never have enough guests to warrant the quantity of dishes I've been hauling around for years. So I got rid of quite a few of those things. Ditto for the extra blankets and towels; someone else can use them.

When we took a load of donations to the thrift store, Jim expressed surprise that I donated an old German cookie tin he had given me some twenty years ago. This is another reason I hang on to things: sentimentality. It's particularly hard with things that remind me of Matthew, since what we have of his is all we'll ever have. Mom said she kept one of Jill's shirts. I've given up a few sentimental things because I know it's silly, but those are certainly more difficult items to part with.

Anyway, downsizing has been a bit stressful, but it's forced me to scrutinize my simpler, middle-aged lifestyle. It's a good thing.