Life's a Stitch

C and I decided on the spur of the moment to advance our retirement plans and hightail it out of the rainforest. Where to? Not far. As Canadians we want to stay north of the 49th to keep our medical benefits and be close to our children. But I'm not looking at real estate anywhere until I know when we'll have a cheque in hand. Been there, done that,  buying a house before the first one sold. Won't do it again. Especially in retirement. Now we are faced with the monumental task of sorting and packing 19 years of stuff.  (Note: No worries, Boesen family members, we will still be here for the May reunion.)

I agree with the notion that in time you will eventually fill to capacity the available space in your house. And more. Sometimes I have the feeling that we come across as borderline hoarders; preppers maybe. It struck me that when we move we will be hauling six bottles of olive oil and a case of sundried tomato pesto.

We moved to Vancouver more than half a lifetime ago from a 1600 square foot house to 2300. Four years later we downsized to 1800. That was a healthy exercise in decluttering. Then came the move to 3500 square feet. Over 18 years I have come to the realization that somewhere along the way I broke my personal promise: for everything we brought into the house, an equal item of bulk must leave.

Three kids, 65 foreign exchange students, those friends of the kids who we took into the lovingly dubbed Northvanage (rhymes with orphanage), some leaving their own piles of stuff. You know who you are, this is fair warning.  All I can say, readers, is you don't want to miss our massive moving sale of the century. That is unless you are going through the same exercise in frustration.

We have made four trips to the dump. packed nearly 20 boxes of stuff, gotten rid of plenty, and those were only items that were visible. Haven't even hit the cupboards. In walks the realtor, followed by the house stager this morning. Thier first comment? You have to get rid of the clutter.

Round two was quite productive. I think the house is thanking me for reducing its burden. It sounds different. I detect an echo in destuffed rooms that hasn't been there since we moved in.

I'll miss the forest hikes:

Especially when accompanied by an unexpected hiking partner:

But I'll appreciate a break from the rain:

And we're looking forward to sunnier paths.