What's Worse than Remodeling? Going into your closet.

Which is what I did this morning. I admit, I may have been slightly over-caffeinated, and maybe slightly over confident about what I would find in there, but I wasn't expecting a knock-down, drag out, wtf situation. Which is what I found. THe closet upstairs is huge. It's actually kind of amazing. It's probably 8 feet long, and trust me, we use all 8 feet of it. I've been pulling out things that need to be given away (thank you Junior League Bargain Sale!) and some things that need to be put into storage (thank you Mom), and then some things I wasn't even aware we owned (a Furbie? Has anyone even seen one of those since 1997?). And I started remembering my past. Not my Furbie past- there was never one of those, and I'm pretty sure that belonged to the Husband, but this amazing period in high school I had. Yes, I used the word amazing, in the same sentence with high school, to describe myself. I think I must have been 16 or something, and I decided to convert to Buddhism. I was doing a lot of yoga, and thought that would enhance my practice. So, Methodist girl goes Buddhist. I also read this story about a girl whose sister died and she had gotten rid of all her stuff beforehand. Not that I thought I was going to die (although that would have been a melodramatic take on it) but I thought I should do the same thing. So I gave away a large portion of my clothing, cutting back to only what I absolutely needed. I packed up books and toys and dolls and things I had been hanging on to for years. I pushed my furniture out in the hall, except for my bed. And then....I realized I had given away most of my clothes and my stuff was all packed up, so I freaked out and went back to my internal pack-rat. But what I remember taking away from that was the freedom of not having stuff to worry about. It was so ridiculously easy to vacuum my room, and I didn't have to worry about missing a picture because most likely I had given it away. I could meditate in the very center of my room. I was peaceful for a time because I didn't have stuff hanging on me. Of course I think I mentioned it didn't last very long, and I don't think I've quite had another period like that. I had something close when I lived in Manhattan. I had this really fantastic studio in the West Village. It was a perfect square with a fireplace on one wall. It was 12x12. You want to talk about the ability to edit, talk to someone who lives in NYC. Better yet, talk to someone who lives with children in NYC. Their ability to get rid of things is almost inherent. It's kind of crazy. That's why you can always find such great things in the street- because you can't keep anything. I had a bed, a dresser, two chairs, a table, a bookshelf, and a small chopping block cart. It was awesome. I was always taking books to the Strand to sell, and I was always listing stuff I wasn't using on Craigslist, and I didn't miss any of the accroutements I had back in NC. When I moved back to NYC, it was a completely different world. Immediately I was burdened by furniture, a car, a much bigger place. I'm not sure that's a happier place to be. Now we find ourselves getting ready to move, getting ready to burden ourselves further with more room and thus, inevitably, more stuff. And I find it fascinating that this is what I'm striving for? Sarah Susanka, the author of The Not so Big House is all about building to suit what you need in your life but being aware that in our modern culture our needs are very different. As we actively look at houses that seem to have it all, I remember reading a blurb by Maxwell Gingham-Ryan (apartmenttherapy.com) about going to a party in this huge, beautiful home that was perfectly decorated but lacked charm. That is one thing I can say about all the homes I have lived in. They have been really comfortable, like go ahead and put your feet up, don't worry about shoes comfortable. Currently I read about four different home decorating mags on a regular basis, pouring over pages to figure out what I want out of our home. Because this time, our home is going to be about us, about building our lives together instead of combining our lives into one already situated place. And, on that note, I'm heading back into the dungeon. I mean closet.

Renovation HELL or My Home

We are not doing too much to our home this summer. Or, at least that's what I thought. It all started with rot. Many houses built in the late 70s to late 90s used Masonite as a building material instead of true wood shingles. This was all good and well until it was realized that it rots. Terribly. So, now it's no longer a building material, and Hardi-Plank is used instead, but all of those delightful homes that did use Masonite now are in the process of having their siding replaced. Now, we are joining them. It should have taken a couple of weeks. Instead, with every layer of our home peeled away, more issues were peeled away with it. So, now, we are getting a pretty much brand spanking new house. We have also now freshly painted the exterior and interior and are living in hell. Boxes of stuff everywhere, I can't find anything and everything seems to be getting worse instead of better. I think the hardest part to swallow is that we are planning on moving. Every bit of love, sweat and tears we're putting into our home is to really get it ready for a new family. It's a hard decision to move from the place where you started your life together. M. has been living in the house for seven years, and for him, the house is rife with memories of single life, roommates, a kitty, meeting me, dinners together here, and finally our first home together as a married couple. But we know there are some things that we need for our lifestyle that we aren't getting out of this home. Namely room for recording for M., and space for my workout gear and a yoga mat. Here's hoping it gets done before December!