Spent the last two weeks in the final stages of getting a long-time friend moved out of her townhome and into assisted living. Well actually, I moved her stuff (as the master, George Carlin, refers to it) not the essential stuff, but the general stuff that anyone collects over the course of life. Stuff that you think you want when you buy it, but end up having no place for when it comes right down to it, because of all the other stuff you already have. Stuff that people give to you, or that you inherit, and you just can’t bring yourself to part with; because, well, it’s sort of their stuff too, right?
The final stage of the move has taken two weeks, the entire process has drug on for several months (I can’t even remember when it started, myself) and over the time I’ve spent sorting, organizing, packing and selling, I’ve come to realize one very important thing. Stuff accumulates in your life that really isn’t important stuff, but it takes the place of other stuff that is important. And that is bad stuff. So, I’m going to start getting rid of my own bad stuff now, and save someone else the trouble later.
I’m going through every item in my house and apply my old measuring stick to it. If there’s any doubt about the immediate usefulness of stuff (as in, I wouldn’t want to carry this stuff across a thousand miles of desert) then out it goes. If you don’t do this every now and then, the bad stuff will just bury you alive, apparently. And that’s not a pretty way to go, buried alive in a pile of stuff that you didn’t really need but can’t get out from under.