Today's Starbuck's Coffee cup reads:
It's difficult for people to get rid of junk. They get attached to things and let them defind who they are. If there's one thing I've learning in this business, it's that you are what you can't let go of.
-- Brian Scudamore, Founder/CEO
We moved into our present house about a year and a half ago, and like most folks I imagine, we managed to get all the stuff we absolutely needed into the house, then stored the rest in the garage. Seemed like a good plan at the time, until we found mice and mice in our part of the world can mean hanta virus.
So then set in the shock and denial, and we've been avoiding the garage for over a year, my Hubby the only one adventurous enough to go in to retrieve the lawn mower on those odd, dry days when we can get to trimming the lawn.
Finally after a couple of attempts at getting enough time to actually deal with The Garage, Hubby took a week off work to tuck into the project. He was very concerned that since he was doing this without me, he'd inadvertently dispose of something that I dearly wanted. It had happened before during a previous move - an entire box of manuscript notes and my 35mm camera somehow got tossed in the trash. I'd had one of my 'sinking feelings' and pawed through the bin just before it got hauled away. I managed to salvage the camera, but the notes were so spread out and mucked up, there was no getting them back. I was inconsolable. I couldn't know for sure what I had lost.
We made a plan - if it could be cleaned then it would be kept. Anything questionable but likely unsalvagable would be saved until I could get home to take a peek.
When I got home last night he told me that the majority of the stuff he'd found so far were well packaged books and keepsakes, and the only thing he really threw out was packing material left over from the move. We were both relieved that at least for now, it doesn't look like we lost much to the mice incident.
I hate moving. I hate having to face all the stuff I accumulate for "just in case" or "when I get time." Of paths not taken, dreams unfulfilled, hopes half germinated then left to moulder. It's such a fragmenting, fragmented feeling. And I hate it.
I yearn to have it all integrated, all have cohesive meaning and purpose, all remembered and honored. Not just stuffed in boxes for "later."
I guess, then, that what I can't let go of is who I was and who I wished I had become.