Scenes from Cardboard Box Land

Sun rising over a living room full of boxes.

The more stuff I get out of my house, the messier my house becomes.  It's really kind of fascinating.

Getting rid of some of my stuff at a neighborhood yard sale.

I've been really enjoying this process of packing up: thinking about what I own, observing what happens as things in closets become de-closeted, etc.  I know that packing and moving can be really stressful, but I've decided to look at this as a way of learning about myself and my material culture.  I'm kind of Spock-ish, thinking all sorts of situations are fascinating.  And plus, I get to play a 3D tetris with the things I own.

One of the huge advantages I have is a giant garage; I can move packed-up boxes out there.   So you'd think that the house would become emptier and emptier as the garage fills up . . . and in a way, that's true.   The upstairs rooms and the basement are emptying out nicely.   But meanwhile, the rooms we use (on the first floor) are increasingly chaotic.   As I said: fascinating. 

We sold everything for 25¢ each,
or $1 per bagful/armful.  

We're not only using the garage, of course.  We're also storing a bunch of our stuff "in the cloud":  taking it to thrift shops, or even selling it at a neighborhood yard sale.  I know enough about yard sales to know that things disappear best if there's a small cost -- so we charged 25¢ per item.  I also know that once people have decided to take one thing, the barrier is broken: so beyond the initial fee, we offered a bulk-buyer's discount:  $1 per bagful/armful.   We ended up making $32.67, plus a pair of boots for me and an iPhone radio for K-daughter.

A friend who came to the yard sale wrote me a few days later, kind of in awe.  She said,

I will always remember the public teacher who cleaned you out of water bottles, including the one in your hand, all for $1. I have told this story a few times already. Most folks don't know that many of [our city] schools are without air conditioning. What a sorry state of affairs.

 There were a few things we offered for free.  My favorite was A-child's playhouse, the sign for which made lots and lots of people smile.

The sign reads, "Awesome Kid Playhouse.   Pre-tested!  It works!!"
Plus, "Free!  Free!  Free!"
People really loved the sign.

 And, of course, even more importantly we cleared out a lot of space:  we started with a bunch of full boxes, and ended up with mostly empty boxes to take back home and fill up (including one box that looked suspiciously like a playhouse).



I have kind of fallen in love with "paper tape":  the brown tape with fibers in it that I have to wet down myself.   One thing I love about it is that it isn't plastic.  In addition, I've learned to love the tactile feel of it: pressing it against the cardboard and feeling it latch on and nestle up to the box.   I like to smooth it out with my fingers and feel it almost melt into the box. 

It feels odd to live in a space this messy.
I'm savoring the unusual experience.

In addition to the garage storage and the brown tape, another aspect of moving that I am grateful for is that my husband is spending the last week before we move in Italy.  I tend to be a tad bit (okay, extremely) opinionated about exactly how things work, and this trip of his therefore is likely to preserve our marriage.  All of the picky last-minute decisions: they're going exactly as I want them to.  He's happy galavanting about Europe and hobnobbing with friends.  I'm guessing I'm even happier finding just-the-right-sized box for a set of pyrex storage dishes (stored with lids on, of course), and making a helpful label, and smoothing the paper tape onto things, and then playing tetris with the box out in the garage.  Ahhhhh.

The thing about packing like this is: there's always one thing more.  Or eight things more.  So much stuff to do just screaming out at me.  For someone like me, who savors the moment of finishing things -- snapping shut the book when I get to the last page, filling in the last square of the crossword puzzle, putting the QED box at the end of a proof -- this house is a constant screaming horde of tasks begging me to pay attention to them.  Just box up this one more shelf.  Just unscrew this one thing from the wall.  I am addicted.  I'm ignoring so much other work I'm supposed to do.  How this calls to me:  fascinating.

The only thing left to pack up from this room is a dog.

I only get to play like this for a few more days.  We move on Friday.  So this game ends, and a new game will begin, as objects emerge from their boxes and find new places in the new home.  I'm so excited.