I truly believe I’m not being dramatic when I say every time somebody has to pack, an angel loses its wings.
Currently, I’m moving out of my Boston apartment to head back home for a moment. After that, I’ll be flying across the Atlantic Ocean, landing in the Netherlands.
Why am I moving to the Netherlands? The Short Story (if you will), is that I’m only 24, the offer came to me, and I’m always down for a little adventure.
However, when it comes to adventures and starting a new chapter in your life, you have to close the current chapter you’re in. That typically involves packing.
I’ve been packing for about three days now, and as I write this, I’m also writing a pros and cons list about what would happen if I just set all my belongings on fire.
Pros: I would no longer have to pack.
Cons: My reputation as a renter would be eviscerated, just the same as every priceless thing I own.
When I moved to Boston, it was me and my Honda Civic against 1,953 miles of pavement, and that’s the exact way I’ll be leaving. So, I have to get rid of an absurd amount of items.
I don’t consider myself materialistic, rather, I just have impeccable taste when it comes to trinkets, hobbies, and clothes.
The first day all I did was put my books into tote bags. I got so overwhelmed, I had to sit down and read one of them.
When I was moving to Boston, my mom told me that shoes, winter jackets, and other crap were more essential than my entire book collection, so I had to scale down a bit. I brought around 40, and have purchased around 30 more since living in Boston.
How many have I actually read since being here? None of your business. Or my mom’s.
But, I have to take them all home with me. It’s non negotiable. As I grabbed a fifth large tote bag to shove the last stack of books into, I realized some other part of my identity would have to suffer.
The next day, I began the war between my clothing collection, and the size of my car. I knew that if I wanted to bring home all of my books, my wall art, and my trinkets, my clothes would have to take the brunt of it all.
I put every scrap of fabric I own onto my bed and had three designated spots on the floor: donate, sell, keep.
I grabbed a suit jacket, and thought, “Well this can go, I barely wear it.”
I then made the mistake of trying it on. I looked like an English professor who quotes lesser-known classic literature to their students when asked a question. I kept it.
There were other items of clothing that nearly broke me to get rid of. I have — excuse me (with a tear welling up) — had, a black vintage suit dress with slight shoulder pads, and a leopard print collar and buttons. I bought it from the thrift store in college, because it reminded me of Fran Fine from the show The Nanny. I thought once I’d get an office job, I’d wear it all the time, and be the talk of the cubicles.
It never really fit me right, and I only wore it when I would clean my room and rediscovered it in my closet. I begged my friend to take it so it wouldn’t end up in the hands of someone who hadn’t watched The Nanny, but alas, the fate of the Fran Fine dress is up to the higher powers of the thrift store.
I have a terrible time focusing when it comes to packing and similar things of the sort. That’s why I’m writing this column in the middle of my disheveled kitchen, after I saw my laptop on the counter, with my bucket hat — adorned with multiple photos of Danny DeVito giving a thumbs up. The hat was on top of the laptop, and will soon end up in the ‘keep’ pile.
As Willie Nelson says, “I just can’t wait to get on the road again.” So, come hell or high water, that Honda Civic will be stuffed to the brim. Or, you’ll hear of a house fire in Brighton in a few days time.
