Life as a box
A gentleman came out from a moving company yesterday to go through our rooms and cupboards and give us a quote on moving and storage for all of our stuff. He was very friendly and made me feel quite confident in having all our precious bits and pieces stored away with his company. In a bit of misdirected PR he gave Amelia a colouring book which she immediately started to chew, but he meant well. He wandered around and kept saying “whew, you’ll need a few book boxes” and “more pictures? wow…”. While traipsing along behind him I realised that we really do have a lot of junk. There are boxes and boxes of computer cables which no longer have any use, piles of paper which I am sure will be absolutely essential for some project some day and bags of fabric which I continue to buy convinced that each scrap will make the perfect bag / cushion / part of a quilt etc. So in light of this realisation I have started going through my stuff and throwing things away… the front hall is full of bags for the op-shop and I have a large “sell it on ebay” box growing by my desk.
Putting our stuff in storage is certainly an event. I never thought I would be one of those people who said “oh, yeah I have one of those, but it’s in storage”… it seems so glamorous – like we could drop everything and jet off overseas at any moment or house sit for an eccentric cultural studies professor in her inner-city mansion, or.. or… stay with my parents and be ongoingly frustrated that “it’s in storage”. What to keep out is a puzzle. Obviously the computer and associated accoutrements will have to come with me, and all our winter clothes and some summer ones just incase we have a heatwave, and some favourite cds and dvds and there’s the filing cabinet full of essential documents and client details. But what of those other items which are just as important for living but not necessarily in high rotation? Like for instance my copy of Delia Smith’s How to Cook Vol. 1 — because she really knows how to poach and egg and sometimes you just need to poach an egg. And come to think of it what if I suddenly get the urge to cook a Jamie Oliver risotto or a Donna Hay stack of pancakes (not likely) or even a Charmaine Solomon curry? Should I take all my cookbooks? Should I take all my art books incase I suddenly realise that I need to look up some artist for that perfect bit of colour inspiration. And speaking of colour should I take my pantone book? My stack of origami papers? My box of paper samples? How about my fiskars paper cutter? Should I take all my art clutter?
Forgetting that we are actually looking for somewhere to rent, I keep getting distracted by “for sale” brochures in real estate offices. How cute are these old milk-bar ice-cream lamps used as outdoor lighting?