packing and moving

Twenty years ago, a lovely couple from Nevada decided to up and move to the continent/country/island of Australia. With them went their one year old daughter and unborn son.

Fast forward to the constant packing and moving the little girl endured. Luckily for her, she got to watch her mom carefully wrap the glasses and tape up the boxes, only to be untaped and unwrapped in the next house/country/continent.

Fast forward to the day the little girl graduated high school. Too old to have her parents pack for her, the girl was forced to endure the difficulty of packing. She would slowly find out that there was an art to it that she did not quite possess. And still did not possess in New York, Madrid, or Nevada.

After routinely packing and moving for twenty one years, the girl sits in her little Brooklyn apartment amidst boxes and bags of stuff. STUFF. By this point, she has learned the art of using every spare space in the box, but has adopted an unfortunate habit--nesting. Somehow she has accumulated a full kitchen including (but not limited to) pots, pans, knives, chopping boards, plates, glasses, wine glasses, woks, a rice cooker, coffee maker, tea kettle, toaster oven, and microwave. She has also accumulated a mattress, bedding, and miscellaneous numbers of shoes.

While there is still much to learn about packing, she now believes that she needs to learn how to not accumulate STUFF. Because...in the words of her mother..."you can't take it with you!"