When The Boxes Themselves Are Part of the Problem
Empty boxes that serve no immediate, discernible purpose
This is kind of an embarrassing post. As I consolidated all of my holiday decorations this past season, and those boxes made their way from my former husband’s spacious basement into my barely serviceable one, I realized (1) I had too many holiday decorations; and (2) I had too many empty boxes.
For the most part, these used to hold various appliances-–a dehumidifier, a toaster oven, a microwave, stuff like that. Because I moved a couple times in the past several years and part of that process involved putting things into a storage unit on an interim basis, it felt like I actually moved three times.
During this multi-year “interim,” I had the mindset that I needed to save as many boxes as possible to be ready for the next move.
I imagined how convenient it would be to put the microwave back into its original box with the original protective styrofoam, tape it up, and load it into my car or a moving truck—-all while hoping the next move would be permanent, or at least until I am too old to go up and down stairs. Well, I am in that permanent home now.
Once I moved the boxes of holiday decorations into my basement, it was obvious that things were getting way too crowded down there. It felt so claustrophobic.
My glance started to zero in on the boxes that I had put out of my mind after I moved in a mere fifteen months ago. As I started to dismantle various box mountains, setting aside the empty ones, then putting them outside, I realized I was something of a box hoarder.
So, would I be like my mom and keep the boxes in perpetuity as they take up ever more room in a basement with limited storage space? Or would I recycle those boxes and feel vaguely vulnerable? As if I would not be fully prepared to flee if I had to? Which is ridiculous because I would not be shoving a dehumidifier in my “go bag” no matter what.
Recycling pick-up was the next day, so I got ruthless.
In the course of consolidating things, I also freed up more plastic bins. And I came upon the boxes of moving paper and bubble wrap that I am saving in case anyone I know moves in the next year or two; I will gift it to them. For now, the packing supplies and the empty plastic bins can go to my former husband's basement because if I lose power during a torrential storm and the sump pumps stop working, I am in trouble. There is more to be done in my 120-year-old basement to get things off the concrete floor.
I also see that I am not going as quickly on this project as I would like. Why haven’t I gotten rid of all the stuff yet?!
Between the holidays, editorial work, teaching, re-writing my memoir, and the current, seriously discouraging political situation, I have slacked off here.
But I know that this particular project is a positive one to keep me busy, to engage with something usually more lighthearted, and to keep me on the path of winnowing down.
I am formulating a plan to do something creative and supportive for those most at risk during this threat to our democracy and the planet, but Letting Go/Holding On will continue. Let's get through this together!