packing your life’s possessions (and those of your partner) into three 5′x8′x7′ wooden cubes isn’t nearly as fun as it sounds. it only makes you hyperaware of how fucked we are in regards to our materialist/packrat behaviors. believe me when i say that i tried so hard to get rid of stuff. i was successful in this endeavor, to some degree - i later felt something of the sense of accomplishment one might feel after spending a day sweeping sand off the beach.
as a people, i believe we’re slowly awaking to the need for a simpler life, but we refuse to actually get rid of anything. that’s *my* shit, dammit, and i worked hard for it! so what if i never use it. the storage-temple keepers welcome it with open arms; i will need all those green and blue plastic containers in the afterlife, you see. bob help them, but those folks who end up with all their crap on the curb for the garbagefolks to pick up are better off, at least in one regard.
anyway. we had lots of help with the packing of said crap, which we very much appreciated. i’m sure we’ll be nothing but delighted to see it all again on the west coast after living perfectly well without it for two weeks.
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