When I moved to Florida last July, I packed up two suitcases and jumped on a plane. The rest of my things slowly made their way down via my wonderful grandparents who make the drive from Indiana fairly regularly. Now I'm getting ready to pack up my car to drive home in a few days. And I've come to the conclusion that moving as a grown-up sucks.
I don't even have that much stuff. I don't need a moving truck (at least at this point, I don't think I do). My furniture is going to a good home here. I'm donating some things. I've packed my books, DVDs, some kitchen things, and my bathroom things. So that should leave clothes and shoes, right?
Apparently I have more things than I thought. And less boxes than I thought.
Moving makes you realize the beauty of living as simply as possible. I was all ready to just throw out the things that don't really matter, that I can just buy new when I get my own place again. Moving in with Mom and Dad means I don't need much. There are things I'm hanging on to because I have some sort of attachment to them. And I'm trying to tell myself that so much of this stuff is just that: stuff.
But what if it's stuff my Mom bought me because my parents are wonderful and helped me get on my feet here? What if it's stuff that my family gave me because at some point I actually liked it? What if it's stuff that I just don't know how to deal with?
Some day there will be another apartment that will need new things. The things I have for this apartment were for this apartment. Who knows if I'd even want it later? It's too expensive to move it and I don't want to store it; I'd rather it be used. Even though it's just stuff, why is it so difficult to decide what to do with it?
I guess the question is this: will I miss my stuff as much as I miss my friends and family right now?
Answer: I highly doubt it.