“Then, bidding farewell to The Knick-Knack, I went to collect the few personal belongings which, at that time, I held to be invaluable: my cat, my resolve to travel, and my solitude.”~Colette~
I would change the last part of that sentence to “My cats, my bottle of wine, and my sanity.”
The Knick-Knack. The item of so much importance upon purchase and the item of “what the heck was I thinking?” upon letting it go. I realized the other night that I have too many knick knacks, countertop dust collectors and wall hangings, all of which need to find their new home – a place of importance or not.
My ensuing text to Natasha, “Note to self: Don’t ever buy another knick knack in your life. Ever.”
Her response? A very sympathetic “Bwahahahahahahaha!”
I would have thought that last year’s purging of a good chunk of my unicorn collection and the ousting of a box of Coke glassware a month ago would have helped in this area. Sitting among a strange assortment of cat figurines, silk flowers, pictures of various sizes, a cat cookie jar, a German stein, hand-painted wooden plates and ducks, and a bag filled with various sizes and shapes of toothpicks, I became motionless.
“What on earth am I going to do with all of this stuff?”
In going through my objects of past and continued desire, I have only three options: 1) Take the objects with me. 2) Store them in a storage shed. 3) Take multiple knick knacks and sundries to the thrift store where one woman’s junk will be another person’s treasure.
The first option has been tough. There is limited space when sharing an apartment. Storage consists of what one can stuff into a closet or under the bed. Our goal, initially, had been to find a duplex or small home to rent, with a two-car garage and basement. That didn’t work out as rent (and pet deposit) for anything that met our specifications and liking is downright expensive. We want to save on rent, not pay through the nose. Anyhow, Natasha and I have both been working hard to let go of stuff and pare down; to simplify; to create fluid feng shui instead of a junky pile of junk; to go where no knick knack hoarder has gone before. Some items may need to be pried or cried away. Imelda may need to hand over a few more pairs of shoes.
And so, tonight, I once again forge through knick knacks and accumulated belongings that will end up in one of the three numbered piles. I also have to try out the vacuum seal storage bags that require sucking air and possession filling. Until I find a cute single guy with a Harley or I win the lottery, the leather motorcycle jacket is being stored, as are my winter clothes (yes, winter is finally over) and bedding. More stuff. Friday, Natasha and I attack the kitchen. I’m unsure of everything we will uncover, but I am sure it will not be pretty.
“But why can’t I keep my lime green lettuce knife and the 20-year-old bowling beer mug, and the big giant cat cookie jar that has never seen a cookie?”
Natasha raises her Elvis eyebrow and I bid them all farewell.