Stress is sometimes measured in lifetime milestones. Births, marriages and divorces feature high up there on the Richter scale of traumatic episodes but the house move can not be far behind.
We live in a fast-paced world, many of us running high-octane businesses, making critical decisions on a day to day basis but even that doesn’t compare to the massive upheaval a change of home heaps upon the soul.
This is an area that women have considerably more aptitude than men generally, with the gradual appearance of more and more cardboard boxes and packing cases, suddenly you start to realise just how much “stuff” we have.
Suddenly it seems like I am the villain. I am the secret hoarder. Books by the hundred, CDs, DVDs, sporting equipment seem to account for huge amounts of space…and they are all “unnecessary”
“Why do you need all these CDs and all those albums?”
“Your music is on iTunes”
The answer is irrefutable, but in real form, it’s MY music, it’s MY history. The LP is making a huge comeback..not because people think vinyl sounds any better, because, in fact 65% of albums purchased will never be played. I am not alone. We want something physical to treasure and collect.
“You don’t need all these DVDs, you must have watched some of these films hundreds of times”
“Yes I have”….and that is the point. These films are who I am. They define me as a person. They are part of my list. We all have lists. I am not about to send my copy of “The Outlaw Josey Wales”, or “The Third Man” to the refuse tip.
Golf clubs, mountaineering equipment, ski stuff…and the associated footwear…enough shoes to fill a small size van..it’s all got a place.
Then come the bits of paper, a menu from a special restaurant, ticket stubs from a Rolling Stones concert, football programmes, golf cards, and on it goes.
But it is only now, when we are moving, I really get to see all this “stuff”. Stuff that has to be packed, and then unpacked and then found a place to stay until next time we move or I pass away.