The First Night of the Rest of Our Lives

Last night was our first official night of living in our motorhome. I awoke this morning thinking about what the view is outside, then I remembered that we're parked on the side of our house and the view is the same as its been for the last 14 1/2 years. But that's okay with me. In 2 1/2 months the view will start changing regularly. 

I am so excited about our new life on the road, but getting ready for it has been stressful. I have no problem selling our stuff, but its going through all the stuff that is the hardest to do. Every photograph, trinket, collectable, every little thing is a reminder of our lives up until now.  When given the time and opportunity to think about it makes it more difficult to let go. But let go we must. This whole experience has been a lesson in letting go, to put into practice the teachings of Buddha that everything is impermanent, that our attachment to things, and oftentimes people, is the cause of suffering; that our desire, which encompasses anything, and any thing, that we think we want or need is simply the impetus to dissatisfaction if we can't have the object of that desire.

Its been nearly two weeks ago that we had our estate/garage sale. One of the things done was to put out the boxes and boxes of Christmas ornaments and decorations for sale. I went through all our ornaments in advance so I could keep the pieces that were especially important to me. I narrowed it all down to a Rubbermaid box about 12"x16"x8". What I failed to do was label the box 'not for sale.' Rob put it out amongst all the other stuff and then sold my 8x8x8 box of ornaments, found within the bigger box, for $1.00. I was momentarily crushed. Then I let it go. I talked about it to several people, which might have meant that I hadn't really gotten over it, but I had. It was easier to do than I thought possible. The saving grace, however, were the two ornaments that remained in the box which my mother had made. Now those were really important and I still have them. Its enough. 

Rob had to experience some letting go, too. He loves his Hawaiian shirts. He put them out for sale and lots of them did, the rest he gave to charity. What he failed to recall was that he had removed all his favorites out of the motorhome when we got home in early February, so now he has none except one. Just one Hawaiian shirt. He had to let go, too. 

We did really well with the garage sale and made more money than we thought we would. We had stuff sell that we thought wouldn't and the stuff we thought would sell didn't. Overall it was quite successful, but after that weekend I thought once was enough. Next step would be to call in the estate people to make an offer and haul everything away. But, I think I will attempt at least one more garage sale as long as good weather is forecast. I initially wanted all this stuff wrapped up by the end of May, but now I want everything gone by the end of April. I don't want to think about it anymore. I want to look forward, not back, and enjoy each moment as it is happening. Including the moment our newest grandchild is born, when we welcome Oliver into the world. May will be an exciting month!

So will June and July and August and…

Side Effects

There are all kinds of side effects. Like when you're having an allergy attack and you take an allergy pill. Then you sleep for the next four hours when you really needed to get stuff done. Or, you get overzealous and clean the house from top to bottom, corner to corner, then you feel that twinge in your lower back that says "Ok, now you've done it!" Or, you're using your spade in the garden with every intention of improving it, but instead you spade right through a sprinkler pipe and you spend the rest of the afternoon repairing it. Or, how about when you've done a simple kindness for a complete stranger and later find $20 in an old coat pocket. Or, you ruffle the scruff of a neighbor's dog, turn to talk to the neighbor and then get an unexpected wet kiss across your face, nearly knocking you to the ground. Or, you've caved in and bought that ice cream or cookies or pie or cake, then feel guilty for having indulged (that was me last night). 

I am suffering the side effects of two things right now, besides the Oreos I ate last night. One has to do with our decision to RV full time. We have been home for over a month and we've sold exactly one thing: the daybed, trundle and it's accoutrements. We have a houseful of stuff to sell. The side effect? It is overwhelming! It is so overwhelming that I want to crawl in a hole and hide myself. What to keep? What to sell?

Things we were hoping to keep, we will need to sell, like the beautiful mahogany pieces that came from Rob's great-grandmother's house in St. Thomas. I'm afraid the things we need to sell may not fetch a reasonable price. I'm planning on having a huge garage/estate sale next weekend, but the effort and energy it entails is staggering. I've read the many tips on having a successful garage sale, but I am not going to rent tables at a party store, nor am I going to pay the exorbitant fees by advertising in the newspaper. I will advertise the garage sale on craigslist.com, though. Craigslist is how I sold the daybed. Great. But much of what I want to sell people would expect to be shipped. No way. Shipping, in my experience, would eat up too much of the profits. I'm sure I don't qualify for special, discount rates with FedEx or UPS. 

Most of the stuff I want to sell is not junk, but a garage sale is a place where people expect to pay next to nothing for everything. Some of the stuff isn't suitable for consignment stores, but some of it is. Should I put the set of china there? Its beautiful, but old fashioned. How long, on average, would I have to wait for it to sell? Does it matter? Maybe I should just get the garage cleared out enough that we can put everything out there and have experts in estate sales come in and offer us a flat amount for the lot of it. That would make them more money than it would us, but I wouldn't have the feat of figuring it all out, which is making my head hurt. That's how we handled my mother-in-law's estate—well, the stuff in her house that the family didn't keep. I so dislike having to think about it. I dislike more having to do it. I have to keep my eye on the ball, put one foot in front of the other, not let the challenge paralyze me.

That brings me to the other side effect. I'd rather be thinking about and doing something else than dealing with all the stuff, stuff and more stuff that we've collected over the years. I read an article that had huge side effects for me. It inspired me so much that I can't stop thinking about it. It has mushroomed in my head like an atomic bomb. I have a fully formed book in my head. I have to write it. It will be hard. I will spend hours thinking about how to express my thoughts, create a scene, doing research. I will feel unimaginative and wholly inadequate from time to time, but I have to write it. Once we are on the road, Rob will have to deal with me hunkering over my computer for hours or days at a time, doing more than just processing my photographs. A big side effect will be having to balance all the hours in the day. I certainly wouldn't want to miss the sites at each place we visit. 

Now that I've said it, made it public so to speak, I must complete the tasks. I must sell our stuff and stop being a wuss about it. Just let it go so we can get on the road where we never think about all the stuff over which I'm agonizing now. And I must write my book, which I know would make a good, if not great, movie because that's how it plays in my head. 

Like the Nike ads always said: Just Do It. Besides, I don't want to contemplate what would happen if I don't. You know, all the other side effects.