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Moving Out

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We moved this year.

After being renters for over twenty years, we decided to give the American Dream a try and look for a house. The real fun started when we found one. To our surprise, we discovered there was no great joy in being forced to take stock of what we had and then decide what we could live without (sans regrets). We couldn't move everything. We didn't need everything. Although at one time we thought we did.

You don't know what you have until you really, really dig deep. During that transition we must have upped the stock of the plastic garbage bag industry tenfold, purchasing the things by the case. What we didn't pack up in cardboard boxes and plastic bins got chucked into those bags.

I remember the awful job of hauling them down the stairs. They were packed full of unwanted toys, moldy stuffed animals, ruined CDs, and tons of other junk, which made them heavy and unwieldy and about ready to burst. I dropped them by the curb and turned away, trying not to think what the garbagemen might think of us when they saw the mountain of shiny black bags waiting for them.

We didn't want to ruin anyone's day. We just wanted to get out of there and make a new start. Maybe the garbagemen would sympathize if we put it to them that way.

Maybe not.

Most of the stuff that traveled with us to our American Dream is still packed in boxes in our basement. There is time now to take stock of what remains. Some of those things might still have some purpose or meaning or value to someone in the house. The rest will get sold at an online auction and become someone else's burden. Those auction winners will be happy to get their prize but after awhile they, like us, won't remember why they wanted it.

Fortunately, there are garbagemen everywhere.

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About Mindy Peterman

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