For the second time in less than three weeks I’m on the hunt for boxes – now to empty my apartment in Brussels. If I thought the Barbizon-move was the « Mont Blanc » to climb, this one is going to be no less than Mount Everest.
I’ve got enough books to fill an entire small town-library, enough candles to lit a cathedral, and enough clothes to make the Salvation Army happy for at least five years. And just loads of « stuff » - there’s no other way to describe it. A coke can from our trip to Cuba three years ago. A twig with eucalyptus leaves from the Portuguese mountains. An empty wine bottle from that romantic dinner in Florence five years ago. A flyer from the ballet we went to for our one year-anniversary. The keycard from our very designy hotel in Copenhagen. And so one. (By now, you’re starting to understand why I get along so well with Phoebe, the hamster). Yes, I’m one of those people who keeps things, just because of the memory that’s attached to it. Restaurant tickets, some ten plastic Haagen-Dazs ice cream spoons, entrance tickets, Starbucks’ coffee cups with my name on it, etc : they fill up valuable storage space, with no other purpose but to do just that.
And now, decision-time has come : in or out. Part of me goes all sentimental and says : hey, I already have to leave my apartment – surely I’m allowed to keep all my things. Another part goes practical : time to clean up, and throw out all the clutter. The less there is to move, the better. This results in situations like the following : actually find the courage to throw away something. Five minutes later : run down the stairs, look left and right to see if there’s no one in the street, tear open my own garbage bag, dig into it, and retrieve the one item, that was, of course, on the bottom by now. And drag it back up to my apartment.
*Sigh*, four days left to get my entire life packed into boxes – wish me luck !
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