Like Pulling Off a Band-Aid All At Once.

According to the KonMari de-cluttering consultants, you are supposed to consider each of your possessions and determine if it sparks joy; if it does not, you remove it from your life. Judging from what the estate sale people schlepped out of my house this morning, there was a lot of stuff in my life that did not spark joy.

Downsizing is hard. You keep the things you need, and try to decide which things gladden your spirit the most, and you have to let the rest go. I confess, I left a lot of it till the last minute, then scrambled frantically to sort things into “stay” and “go.” Rather like ripping a Band-Aid off instead of pulling it off slowly. It hurts more, but it’s over quicker.

I don’t even want to think about the accumulated remembrances of a long lifetime that my mom is giving up,

A bedroom suite and dining room suite she’s had since the first year of her married life, treasures brought back from world travels, family heirlooms, quite a gallery of family pictures, a legendary souvenir spoon collection, a house that has been her home for 60 years (since December of 1961) .

I’m trying to hold the mindset that all these things we are having to let go of are like the chrysalis the butterfly leaves behind, but it’s hard. The Dan Fogelberg song “Souvenirs” keeps coming to mind.

I had to let go of a good 3/4ths of my yarn stash. A knitting friend came over to lend moral support, help out, and give some of it a new home. (Her husband couldn’t see why such a drastic stash cull was such a big deal until she pointed out that it would be like his having to pare down his fishing tackle to only one tackle box and one fishing rod. Now he gets it!) Parting with so much of my yarn stash was a spiritual owie.

This was a knife through the heart! Exeunt two and a half whole bookshelves of books. Only two and a half bookshelves of my library are left now of the five from the last move, and the seven from the move before that.

All the paperwork for Carillon was completed Monday, and Wednesday I learned we were both approved. It’s practically a done deal. The To Do list is getting shorter: Paying the remainder of the Carillon buy-in fee. Getting mom moved. Getting me moved. Sell mom’s car. Close on the house.

The flooring for the apartment has been ordered through a local business. It’s just whenever they get it and they can schedule installers. I’ll be notified when the apartment is move-in ready. Mom might be able to move to Carillon House as early as next week to finish her rehab there.

I talked to the recommended movers. Scheduling is tight, but it looks like I’ll be moving the 31st. (My landlady is sad to see me go, but she lost her husband two years ago and her daughter is urging her to move to where they live in Oklahoma. She’s thinking that as hot as the real estate market is at the moment, now might be a good time to sell the duplex as well as her own home — especially after I told her how fast mom’s house sold.)

I need to call the people I lease my under-sink reverse osmosis water unit from and see if they do installations at Carillon. If not, I’ll find out who does. I also need to talk to the Carillon IT people about porting mom’s land line number to the apartment. She has been using her cell phone, but the little flip phone she has doesn’t have much oomph and she has difficulty hearing it. She can hear on her cordless phone when she puts it on speaker (so can I — both sides of the conversation from across the room . . . ! ) and as socially connected as she is, that seems the better solution.

We’ll have to do the change of address dance — making sure all the important stuff like bank statements, insurance, etc., comes to the new address.

When we stop her internet service, she will lose the email address she’s had for 20 years. I’ve gotten her a Gmail address and set it up to come to my computer. The email program I use is one she’s already familiar with, so she can check her email again. I downloaded her address book to my email program and BCC’d the whole lot about her new email address. She’s got quite a lot of emails to catch up on. As much as I hate Facebook, I will put her a link to it on my computer.

I’ve still got my hanging clothes to go through and cull. I still need to set up her files in my filing cabinet and get shredded what needs to be shredded. I’ve still got knitting accouterments to go through and organize. I’m selling my washer and dryer, microwave and my printer table in the estate sale, but they’re not coming to get them until the day before the estate sale because I’ve been picking up mom’s clothes to wash when I visit her, and I have this eating habit . . .

Author: WOL

My burrow, "La Maison du Hibou Sous Terre" is located on the flatlands of West Texas where I live with my computer, my books, and a lot of yarn waiting to become something.

3 thoughts on “Like Pulling Off a Band-Aid All At Once.”

  1. I can imagine how the downsizing felt. (I too went through the experience years ago during a move.) Good luck for all of the stuff that remains to be done.


  2. Your mention of having to cull the yard stash got to me. You may remember that the one thing my mother NEVER EVER would give up was her yard stash. After she was gone, I had 27 plastic bins — including some huge Rubbermaid totes — of yard and such to go through.I still have one smaller plastic bin filled with beautiful needlework threads and a bit of tapestry yarn. There’s some doubt I’ll ever use it, but I can’t quite give it up.


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