Lately, I’ve been unbelievably restless. I don’t know (right now) if this is a call to move, to try for a different kind of work, to spend more time writing, or to get rid of a lot of junk that’s slowly filling my house. The last time this happened, it was the junk...and the writing. I got rid of a LOT of stuff, cleared out some space, and did some re-arranging. I wrote a book. They helped. At least for a time.
Then my mother died, and I moved much of her stuff in with me. I already had all her quilts, but I squeezed in a lot of household goods, with the idea of selling some later. Only “later” never came. And I’ve continually added to the piles (mostly books), until now, I can’t really breathe. I look at every stack, and think, “That could really go.”
So it’s time to start tossing, recycling, and selling. I’m going to sell some of the quilts (if I can). I have two Tell City hard rock maple accent tables. A set of black glasses. Books (LOTS of books), CDs, and DVDs. Art. Picture frames. Some cross-stitch pieces. Sheet music (LOTS of sheet music). And pretty much anything else I think I can live without. If this doesn’t resolve the restless, then I know what’s next.
I’m a nomad. Always have been. The longest I’ve ever lived in one location is eight years, and that almost happened by accident. Five years is about average, and I’ve been in my current location for almost six. Stuff makes me feel cramped, and I’ve been surrounded for far too much stuff for far too long.
It won’t be quick, so you may find progress reports from time to time. But it’s time to make room and gaze once again at the horizon. After all, you never know what’s out there…