In the past 14 years of living together, John and I have lived in really small spaces. We spent 5 years living in a 500 square foot studio (that’s counting the patio), and then moved nearly every year until we bought our first place together in 2007, a one-bedroom condo just less than 900 square feet.
Because of our small living quarters, we’ve never been big on collecting. Perhaps we’re the only geeks in the universe without first edition action figures and memorabilia. But a few months ago when I looked around our house with new eyes, I realized that we were collectors after all – most of what filled our house was going to waste sitting on shelves or hidden in kitchen cupboards unused.
Books that we read once that we weren’t going to read again sat collecting dust. Saucy, fashionable pumps worn once because they were proper death traps were still in the closet as if time would either (A) make my feet shrink or (B) the shoes magically expand. A popcorn maker brought out twice, once at Christmas and the other time at a rock band party that left popcorn hopelessly ground into our carpet. A fondue set, a brush for a wok that disappeared long ago, four ice cream scoops, souvenir shot glasses, knick knacks, old handbags. Clothes that didn’t look good a few years ago and were still completely hopeless now.
While arranging piles and packing boxes that little green voice of greed crept in my mind…
“But why are you getting rid of all of these things? You could use that again. And that. That silver handbag from Senior Prom the size of a deck of cards? You can use that again. Keep it my precious….my preciousssss!”
And I paused for a minute to reexamine things. And started to delusionally take things out of the box, and carefully placed them back in the keep pile. “Don’t we need at least 3 ice cream scoops? What if we have an ice cream social? That hideous vase would look really great if I got a taxidermined rooster to go with it. And that guitar pick – it’s from Better than Ezra! BETTER THAN EZRA!”
Our dog Kingsley, padded over to my keep pile and gazed into my eyes of madness. “It’s like you’re taking crazy pills, Bitch! Get this shit outta here!” he said, and used his back paw to kick over a Sinfully Vegan desserts cookbook.
“Cripes, you’re right!” I snagged the Vegan cookbook and tossed it into a box to send off to a newly vegan friend and scooped everything else back into the box. With Godspeed, I barreled down the stairs and took everything down to the car immediately. Drove straight to the Salvation Army drop-off center and handed it over along with bags of other knick knacks and old clothes.
Once safely behind the wheel with more of our loot gone, I started to drive away and heard his voice fading away. I reversed the Prius, ran out and asked to see the last box on the top. I just had to get that Better than Ezra pick back. Couldn’t just leave a man down like that singing alone in a Salvation Army trailer…
Sitting around the house,
watching the sun trace shadows on the floor.
Searching for signs of life, but there’s nobody home.
Well, maybe I’ll call
or write you a letter.
Now, maybe we’ll see on the Fourth of July.
But I’m not too sure, and I’m not too proud.
Well, I’m not too sure and I’m not too proud to say.
Aha, it was good living with you.
Aha, it was good.
Aha, it was good living with you.
Aha, it was good.
Yeah, you were so good. Yeah you were so good, yeah that’s right…
Big On The Inside 
Great blog, as always! I so need to do the same thing, again. I’m getting better at it, but I still have more of those ‘guitar pick’ moments than I should. There’s a spring cleaning coming on…I can just feel it!