I now live in a teeny, tiny apartment. While it's not New York City small, it's small enough that I cannot buy more food until I eat the food I already have. (And if you have recipes for which the primary ingredients are canned green beans and canned diced tomatoes, please forward them to me.) Also, though, I've been forced to do some serious thinking about the things I own versus the things I need. Even after almost 8 days of mercilessly weeding out and whittling down, I still have items for which I do not have room.
Like my couch.
This, even though the items I moved last Saturday represented less than one-half the items I owned the week before. What started with a few down-in-the-heels shoes and extraneous black slacks turned into a Salvation Army free-for-all. I sifted through every file drawer of old bank statements and every plastic bin of craft supplies. Every drinking glass, every can of cream of chicken soup was evaluated: Did I need it? Would I really use it?
And it feels really good--this shuffling off the material coil. So good, that I may have gone slightly overboard. I seem to be without a spatula. Or--for that matter--a fry pan.
But I guess that's okay, since my couch is going to have to live in the kitchen. I can't remember, anymore, if it has Scotchgard.