You’re a writer – you know how it goes. You engineer plot twists and plot points and introduce characters to flip things around, all with the goal of moving the story along. You want your reader to keep turning pages right?
The last thing you expect is for this kind of plot twist, this kind of introduction of new characters to move things along, to happen in your own life.
But, surprisingly enough, this is exactly what has happened to us, being my wife and I. The 1-year-old grandson has been an appealing siren, calling to us from the rocky shores of New Jersey.
Well, we were there at the beginning of October when we spotted The House. She was lovely, Cape-Codish four bedroom, two-floorish sort of thing with a big backyard in which the dog and the probably-will-get-older-than-one-year-old grandson could play and frolic with abandon.
And it was for sale.
What the hey, right? What are we waiting for, we asked ourselves. So, we made a pitch. You miss the shots you don’t take, right?
They accepted the offer on October 3. The seller enthusiastically wanted to close in 30 days – November 3. Cool!
Wait, what?
In order to afford the new house, we have to sell the old house. You know, the one in which we’ve lived for 27 years and raised three kids and, in total, six dogs and what seems like 72 cats…
Imagine your parents’ house back in the day. It was nice enough – maybe needed a little sprucing up, right?
That’s our house, too. Just needs a little sprucing up, like a roof, flooring, drywall and paint. Oh, and you can’t be living in a house where all that is going on. Sooooo…
After a weeks-long scramble – we both have day jobs, ya know – we closed off the living quarters of the house. That’s a distinction, that living quarters part. Most of the stuff we’re keeping is crammed into the garage!
Here’s an adage you can borrow: the number of people’s possessions rises to meet their available square footage. The guy who moves from a studio to a 10,000 square foot home will eventually fill that space with stuff. If he has kids, it doesn’t take very long.
Here’s a piece of advice: chuck it. Keep the stuff you wear, the stuff you use, the stuff you like. But if you haven’t actively liked, used, or worn it in the last six months? Chuck it.
Years ago I was having trouble with a coworker. A good friend told me to blow it off: “he doesn’t pay enough rent to take up that kind of room in your head.”
That’s your stuff. I can say this after filling two 40-foot and three 8-foot dumpsters, and after an even dozen trips to Goodwill: chuck it, and chuck it now.
Why are you still reading this? Why aren’t you out there chucking your stuff?
Thanks for reading this – there’s more to come. Next, fitting it all into the Pod!
Remember: chuck it!
John D Reinhart 