I am writing this on-board the B.C. Ferries’ Queen of Surrey. We are en-route from our cottage in Sechelt to our apartment in Vancouver. Our pick-up is full of more stuff that we have determined needs to live in Vancouver, especially now that Sechelt is rented out from April to December. That sounds like we have lots of time to get organized, but in fact, we leave for Mexico in two weeks and won’t be back until mid-March.
We are the King and Queen of Schleppage. Of to-age and fro-age. Of here-age and there-age. Then again, mostly we just look like the Beverly Hillbillies. Remember the Clampett family? ‘This here’s a story of a man named Jed…’
But throughout these little sojourns, I am learning some lessons in what I think is essential. It’s kind of funny as to what makes the cut. For instance, the bubblegum pink Buddha is, apparently, key to my quality of life for the next year in Vancouver, as is the collage picture we bought in Quebec.
Key, I’m telling you, absolutely key.
The cab of the pickup is stuffed with other utterly necessary items…a random pair of shoes, the perfect bathroom garbage can, a painting we bought in Florida. These are probably not the things I’d grab if we were fleeing from a burning building, but still, they have meaning.
But I’m realizing too, that if I had to toss the works? It might not be the end of the world.
What would you grab if you could only take five things from your house?
What is really truly absolutely important?
What can’t you live without?