Most people at some point are faced with a downsizing event. Very often it's done out of necessity rather than by choice. Ours is a bit of both. I'm looking at having a surgical repair of a rotator cuff injury that I sustained in a fall back in January. I'm simply not capable of doing spring planting, maintenance, and yard work as I have done for the past 25 years in this house. There's also a lot of "deferred maintenance" needed around here that I'm ashamed to say that I've let slide, and now I'm just not really capable of doing it even if I had the necessary skills.
Injury aside, we haven't been able to buy anything in years because we just don't have room. Living in this house the last few years has felt like we were being pushed into smaller and smaller space because of the build up of stuff all around us. Our current plan is to sell everything that we can, take only the bare necessities, and keep what we must in storage, to be gradually reduced as we travel back here for visits. Although the injury helped me come to terms with the decision, I am glad to be making this move by choice while we still have the choice to make.
We've been sorting, organizing, selling, donating, and tossing out accumulated stuff pretty steadily over the last couple of months. Today an auction house came and removed a lot of the household furnishings, particularly the antiques that we've collected over the years. It hasn't been easy, but it hasn't been entirely tragic either. For one thing, we've seen, touched, and re-discovered many things around here that we haven't actually seen in years. Lots of memories, most of them good. And the process has been rather liberating in a way. I feel lighter, less tied down, unburdened by material things as they leave. When we first made selections about what to keep, it felt good knowing that I had that option. However, as we are a little further along in the process, I've found that I am now able to part with many things that were initially in the "keep" pile.
Pictures are from Tuesday's 2.5 mile walk with Bailey.
One of the things I ran across yesterday was a small piece of paper torn from a daily calendar from 1996. It contained the first verse of a poem by Rupert Brooke that I had kept in memory of our little dog Vito, pictured below.
All in the town were still asleep,
When the sun came up with shout and a leap.
In the lonely streets unseen by man,
A little dog danced. And the day began.
I'm posting it here now so I can throw away the piece of paper.
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3 comments:
Who is going your shoulder?
Good luck with your surgery and rehab.
Congratulations on reducing the weight off your shoulders. It's amazing how stuff breeds when you aren't watching. Having grown up in a hoarder-house, I tend to start hyperventilating around too much stuff. Years ago I started a habit of taking something out of my house anytime I brought something into the house. That's worked pretty well. It's also made my house much easier for my cleaners to clean. As for outside, you know it's the bottom of my priority list. I had a bunch of shrubs planted when I built this house. Now, as each shrub dies (or underperforms), I have my landscapers lop it off and cap the irrigation line to that spot. I'm not replacing anything. Fortunately Phoenix yards are rock-filled and easy to maintain. I can go months without even stepping foot in my yards.
Good luck on your surgery. I hope that part of the downsizing allows you to sleep on the ground floor rather than facing stairs. My left foot has been in a boot for over a month after having three tendons cut to relieve problems. I've also added a cane to my repertoire -- and fully intend to stand on my front step, waving it in the air and yelling "You danged kids get out of my yard!"
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