Why on earth do I save some of the stuff I do? Since I first moved to NYC in 2000 and realized how much I needed to downsize, I have reveled in the somewhat regular life purge that moving often necessitates but that also sometimes feels like a great way to shed some old skin. A few years after relocating to New York, I visited my parents in Louisiana and found under my bed there, every corsage from every formal my high school boyfriend and I attended. It was the most insane “am I Miss Havisham?” moment ever! Fortunately I had the wherewithal to immediately toss them out.
I feel there is some psychic benefit to scaling back, giving away clothes or other things you really never use, finally tossing all those magazines you’re never going to have time to read, jettisoning those remaining boxes that you’re never going to unpack. It’s literal and figurative clearing out!
So back to my initial query about why I’m now surrounded by extra buttons (I can’t sew and don’t really intend to learn) and old receipts. Good grief, get me the garbage can!