Transition #1 One Day at a Time - at the Storage Unit

The best words to explain our transition at this time is DISORIENTATION AND CULTURE SHOCK. Among other words we are feeling in limbo, and that to be honest life is anticlimatic. Obligations, responsibilities, and to be honest cleaning out everything we left when we moved to France - no easy chore, but a much easier one now that we haven't seen anything for three years.

I'm sitting here in the parking lot of the storage unit  watching the movers pack a 26 foot truck. Taking out box after box after box, I think to myself. "What in the heck are in those boxes?"

I'm tempted to just tell them to take it to Goodwill and never open them, but then again maybe there is a treasure buried deep within that one cardboard carton.

The bed comes out next. "Yes we need a bed even though it does look lumpy and is in need of replacement." Zoe's old toys , a bike with training wheels, a toddlers painting easel- oh who thought we would be gone three years and now to our great advantage most can be donated or sold at the big upcoming garage sale. Thank God she is past the plastic toy stage and our house will no longer be littered with plastic pink toys.

The boxes marked -kitchen- look interesting. I've been living on a few dishes suitable for a rental house and have missed my colored pottery barn collection expecially at holiday time when I wanted to entertain. Maybe, maybe this will help ease some culture shock.

Toaster Oven. I haven't needed or used one in three years.. Do I really need it? Is it making life more complicated or easier? Did we just not have the space in France or how is it possible to get along without it? Interesting questions to ponder. Except I think walking down to the corner patisserie for a hot croissant verus taking a package of croissants out of the freezer explains alot for not needing a toaster oven in France.   Who needs the croissants anyways, they just added love handles.

Stacked on the side wall are over fifteen boxes filled with paintings. "Did we have so many?" I ask myself. "I can't remember having so many?"   I secretly wonder if we packed old framed posters from our younger years we were afraid to discard when we moved. "Okay, nothing comes into the house until it is thoroughly examined." I repeat to myself. My mantra... toss, discard, donate, sell.

As the movers bring out some furniture, I make decisions in the moment. "That goes to salvation army." I yell to the mover. Jean and I made a list what we didn't want anymore. Get rid of the dressers we have had for fifteen years that were falling apart. Get rid of the old green coach that was stained. Get rid of the TV cabinet and the two TVs. Besides we didn't want a TV in the house (at least for now everyone is in agreement) the TVs are so old they will not work after next year. "Donate, donate, donate." I repeat, as a half load of furniture disappears before my eyes.

The biggest mistake we made was not to sell it or give it away three years ago and avoid storage fees.   But now we are on a mission of simplicity and cleanliness.

Next, the movers pull out a beautiful, tall wooden painting easel. "I love that. I missed that.  Do I need it?" I finally say to myself.
"Yes." Somethings we do want to keep.

I feel like I am shedding more layers of my old self. Old furniture is a start. Just wait until I get to the boxes.

A gargantuan pile of boxes labeled, "Office and files," stands in the corner. "Place those in the office, those in the garage. Do not bring anthing in the house." Over the next few weeks we will discard and toss and hopefully have the willpower to get rid of an old workshop I worte 15 years ago that I might need one day. "Please..... we are on to new adventures, new ideas, new work."