Never before in my life have I even remotely wanted to own a home. Finding myself moving back in with my parents at 24 (even though for a very brief reprieve) makes me start to think in that direction. Really this is more of an extended visit than a move-in – I’ll only be here for 2 weeks before heading off to Mexico for over a month – but it still feels like I have accomplished very little by the way of being a “grown up.”
There is all the above, and the fact that I am getting a little tired of moving (which is probably the actual issue.) The switching locales isn’t really as bad so much as moving all the stuff. I have a lot of stuff. I throw out about a quarter of it each time I move – and yet it still continues to accumulate. Can you please explain to me how one single-white-female ends up with two full sets of dishes? I needed an entire car load to move my kitchen stuff – and I.don’t.cook.
The funny thing is I honestly thought moving would be a breeze this time. For once I had my clothes and shoes down to a manageable volume – but I had forgotten about all the useless crap I had managed to stuff into every corner of the apartment. I mean really – if I hadn’t used it in a year and a half did I really still need the giant brass shower caddy that doesn’t fit any shower? What about my yearbooks from grades 2-12 – does anyone ever look at those?
So before I make the next move (which is in about 2 months) I have tasked myself with getting rid of all my junk so I don’t have to move it again.
(That is unless by that time I have managed to find myself one – or two – Drogos. Then I’ll probably buy more useless stuff just to watch them flex as they lift the boxes. *sigh*