Once a possession comes into your life, clamp on like a pit bull. Whatever you do, don't let go. Austerity, clean lines, and uncluttered surfaces belong in a monastic cell, not your home. Streamlining is for monks and nuns, for the rest of us there is The Container Store. (Happily, they have a reputation for treating their employees well; so I can feel all warm and fuzzy about loving them as much as I do.)
It felt very good packing up those foot creams I never use and that wee rubber gasket in a small sealed plastic bag, to mention two little drops in our big packing bucket. They've been sitting untouched for untold months, but if I don't keep them, I won't have to spend the time to unpack them when we get back from Maine and puzzle over where they should go. Besides, what if I suddenly change my ways and start moisturizing my feet? Or find the product that may or may not reside in my house and may or may not function better with a wee rubber gasket?
A family of four leaves Brooklyn's Park Slope, fails to homestead successfully in an off-the-grid log cabin in Maine, and downgrades to faux-homesteading in an on-the-grid farmhouse in Maine.
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