I've Got Rhythm... Or Not

Back in the day, when I religiously practiced "flying" with The F.L.Y. Lady, I believed it was literally true that I could train myself to learn a new habit in 21 days... as a plus, her 28 days gave me a week's worth of grace. It would seem that 21 days is purely anecdotal, but not scientifically verifiable.

According to a study published in the European Journal of Social Psychology, it can take anywhere from 18 to 254 days to get used to a new routine, form a new habit, build a new behavior. All this new information does is to give me pause as I am learning my new rhythm for living in a 300 square foot travel trailer. Pause to not beat myself up and have unrealistic expectations about the adjustment period.

Sunday I made biscuits for breakfast. It was an exercise in patience, to be sure. Let's just say, Julia Childs would probably not be comfortable in my kitchen. (Never mind that I could not even find my rolling pin - just finding a place to knead the dough took several minutes of rearranging just about everything.) But I was not frustrated; if nothing else, it was re-affirming that I could overcome the (admittedly minuscule) challenge.

I am also realizing just how little I can get by with. I don't want to say I am a kitchen gadget junkie...  I don't want to say it, but reality would say otherwise. And guess what, I don't need about half of the cooking tools that I have accumulated over the years.

The same is true just a few steps outside of the kitchen. My project for this weekend is to clear off and designate spaces for all the boxes and files piled up on my desk. No small task, but again, I am not going to beat myself up. And sticky notes have proven to be my new best friend for being able to find where I have stashed things.

It's a process. And there is grace in the process.

What You Don't See

As I am going through the last moving bit, mainly cleaning and tossing, I marvel at the level of dirt that lies underneath and behind almost everything in the apartment. I hardly consider myself Martha Stewart by any stretch of the imagination - neither do I consider myself a slovenly wretch who wouldn't know a broom handle from a scrub brush. Yet, under ever piece of furniture, behind every picture frame, I continue to battle layers of dust and grime that I was previously (and happily) oblivious to.

And, isn't that always how it is? Unless you're up for moving all the furniture to the center of the room in order to bust those dust bunnies quarterly, this is what you wind up with when moving day arrives. Ironically, I had previously been patting myself on the back for "cleaning as I go along" - wiping down baseboards, window sills, door jambs, etc. Well, I'm here to testify, that is not where the real dirt lurks. No, it's under the couch, at the back of the pantry cupboard shelf, under the dryer.

The contemplative part of my brain wants to draw a spiritual parallel to this.

Psalm 66:18-20 New King James Version
 If I regard iniquity in my heart, The Lord will not hear.
 But certainly God has heard me; He has attended to the voice of my prayer.
 Blessed be God, Who has not turned away my prayer, Nor His mercy from me!

Thankfully, we don't have to wait each year for the Day of Atonement to be forgiven of our sins, but daily as we become aware of our shortcomings, we confess and He forgives.

1 John 1:9 New King James Version
If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.

If only house cleaning was as easy.

Are We There Yet?

The perennial question asked for decades (if not longer!) "Are we there yet?" That is what everyone has been asking us lately.

Yes, we are "there." And we are here, as well. (Cue the Beatles: Here, There, and Everywhere.)

It feels like Finals Week, although I haven't been to school in many, MANY years. Working two (part-time) jobs, moving, cleaning, trying to figure out where to fit everything that seems like a "need" into the trailer... It's exhausting, and I have been complaining, probably more than necessary.

The tough questions now begin: How many sets of sheets and towels, how many forks, knives and spoons, how many (fill in the blank) do two people really need? Because, there is room only for so much - even in 300 square feet. I decidedly am not Imelda Marcos (infamous for her 3,000+ pairs of shoes, for those too young to recognize the reference to Philippines' First Lady, whose husband's regime was overthrown in 1986 due to corruption and dishonesty), but it is still somewhat of a challenge to corral even my measly collection.

As tired and sore as I am from climbing up and down a stepladder to scrub cabinets and cupboards, I think the real work begins now, as we begin to make hard decisions about what to toss and what to keep - and where to put what we keep. Another go 'round is decidedly in store for us after this first one, and that's where the emotional choices will begin as we sort through hand knit sweaters that no longer fit, hand made doll furniture, hand crocheted doilies made by great-grandmothers and aunts long passed, fishing lures that are no longer legal, skis that are out of style. (You get the picture.)

I don't want to say I come from a family of hoarders - because I have seen a true hoarder's home - but it would not be a stretch to say I come from a family of collectors, and savers. (Yes, there is a difference!) After all, my grandparents came though the Great Depression, so saving things because you might need them one day is kind of ingrained into my DNA. But I am learning, slowly but surely: If I don't need it now, I don't need to save it for later. And if mysteriously a need does arise, then I will figure it out at that time. Bottom line: it makes zero sense to pay to store something that costs less than $20 and can easily be replaced or "made do" without, "just in case."

I'm getting there.

The Why Behind the What

This view greeted us when we stepped outside this morning:

Look to your left

Look to your right

I think that explains the why behind everything we have been working toward these past several months. Will it be like this every day? Oh golly, no. Come salmon season, there will be boats revving up the river to find the sweet hole, there will be fishermen hollering at each other; come summer, boaters and even tubers will be calling to each other up and down the river. And that's really OK.

The rest of the year, the most noise we hear is wild geese calling out, otters splashing off the banks, wild turkeys looking for their brood... you get the picture.

Worth the drive? Worth the hassle of downsizing and packing? It is to us.

I Ponder as I Pack

Packing, purging, and moving is a curious exercise in the absurdity of consumerism. Nothing makes me more annoyed with myself than to kiss good-bye the numerous (and I do mean numerous) craft items, yards of fabric, clever kitchen gadgets, laundry "boosters", and sadly yes, even food items that I have purchased and not used or literally consumed. Cleaning out the freezer yesterday to move it into the shop almost made my physically ill. No, it wasn't the "science experiments", as we used to call those no-longer-edible items that you find in the back of the fridge... it was the bags of things I might have used, had I had the time to get to them (or remembered that I had them.) The frozen, ready-to-fry latkes that I bought for Hanukkah... of 2018, is just one shining example of an idea that sounded good when I looked at it on the store shelf, but never saw the light of day once I got it home.

Giving away literally a storage bin of unused fabrics that looked good enough to buy over the years, but obviously not good enough to actually sew the projects that I had in mind - well, at least I console myself that it went for a good cause, since I donated it all to my sister's quilting guild. I know that beautiful fabric will make its way into quilts for the veterans, cancer patients, elderly shut-ins, etc.

Another box of unused yarn will be donated to the Waldorf school for their hand crafting clubs, I am still struggling with the multiple boxes of books that I have bought over the years that sounded interesting while I was browsing through Barnes and Noble - but I never seemed to find the time to read. (Although, come to think of it... part of the reason I am downsizing and moving into semi-retirement is so that I will have more time to do some of those things I have been putting off doing... right?) In reality, Friends of the Library is probably going to be seeing many more donations come in over the next few months.

Why do I do this? I wish I knew the answer - I could have saved myself enough money to take that river barge trip through France that I have been dreaming about for so long. One thing I have recognized is that I frequently make purchases out of boredom, instead of need. There's no other explanation for going to the store to buy a $5 item and coming home with $50 worth of stuff instead. Shopping is not a recreation, but the consumerism mentality has turned it into one. When I hear the phrase "retail therapy", I cringe. Spending money on things we don't need - especially when there are so many in actual need - is not therapeutical - it is diabolical. I'm not trying to lay a guilt trip here. There are plenty of things we spend our hard earned money on that are legitimate purchases. But there are many more things we buy because we think it will make us feel better, it was a "good deal", someone else got one and we just had to have one, too.

If nothing else, packing, purging, and moving has become, for me, an exercise in reflecting on priorities.

Try it, You'll Like It!

As we are squarely in the middle of moving and downsizing, I frequently find myself doubting my sanity. Especially today as I have been on my feet for more hours than I am normally for the total of an entire week. Yes, I know that makes me sound like a slug, but honestly, when one works at a desk all day, one does not spend a lot of time standing. Unless you have a standing desk, which I do not.

Thanks to the neighborhood idiots... I mean revelers... it was impossible to get to sleep last night until almost 1 a.m., but as soon as I hopped out of bed (granted, at 8 am) we were off and running. Many more boxes and pieces of furniture have left the building. I even had a table out front with "FREE!" signs all over everything in an attempt to avoid having to haul it all to Salvation Army on Friday. Alas, only one thing walked off, so that errand is still on the agenda.

We also discovered the fate of the rat who got into our laundry room several years ago and hid out under the freezer. Loads of things ended up in the dumpster, several boxes made their way to our new home, and many more will just have to languish in the storage unit until my next free Friday when I can dedicate a few hours to more tossing and purging.

For now, the push is on to empty the apartment, get some basic cleaning done, and set up the new home. Next comes the hard core purging, as if I have not done enough these past few months. (And judging by the fact that we have TWO storage units stuffed full, I think I know that answer to that.)

So, we are a few steps closer to our goal, many miles to go. Now, if I can stop beating myself up about not having kept up with the clutter over the past 15 years. The last time we moved, my witty husband remarked that we needed to move every 2 years in order to keep down the clutter. Turns out, he was probably right.