Hording

I’ve moved in with Ryan Nilsen. Last week was a little odd. I hadn’t taken everything down yet, so was caught inconveniently between home and the apartment. Now that I have moved ‘everything’ down, I realize how much is still at home. It is really amazing how much stuff I have. Taking Mom’s wheelchair downstairs and storing it last night with Dad, I discovered I have stuff in every closet at home. Craig’s, Janean’s, Robin’s, Kristin’s, the nursery (my old room). How is that possible?

I am a dedicated Thoreau-ite: I follow the admonishment of Thoreau. Live simply and within your means. Seek primarily for food, shelter, fuel. What more does one need than a simple cabin by Walden Pond?

Moving this time, I vowed to cut down, sort, and rid myself of all unneeded accumulations. Having now moved I have yet to thrown anything away. My piles of boxes still crowd Janean and Craig’s basement bedrooms. Carload after carload has been transported to my apartment and efficiently stored; still there is more. But do I really need it?

Probably Not.

But I can’t get rid of it. I might, just might, need it sometime in the future. My piles of stuff may be useful once or twice a year. Half of it I may have even forgotten. Yet when I open a box, the decision to throw out its contents is not even an option. Who knows when I’ll need a broken prop SLR or 8mm movie camera? Or my two old TVs (one of which is European and takes an RF adaptor); or my Panasonic editing monitor I saved from the rubbage pile when I worked for the Church.

I yearn to live a life of frugality and simplicity. I want my own cabin at Walden Pond. But apparently I am a Thoreau-ite by intention only. And my cabin will have to come with a basement with many rooms in which I can stuff all my boxes.