home is where the stuff is

So the last of my stuff from the Denver storage unit is now here with me in beautiful Williamsburg, VA.  It made me very happy to see my stuff, and then extremely sad that I have so much crap and had this inkling to burn it all. Burn burn yes ya gonna burn.

But no, I tucked everything as neatly as possible in my brother’s garage and my father’s garage and nooks and crannies of my current room. There are things I wish I never had (I own two pairs of angels wings… don’t ask) and some things I can’t believe I lived so long without (my entire collection of Sandman comics). The overall end result being that I feel fairly blase about the entire act of possession of goods and wish I could donate everything to a needy orphanage and run off to the Great Wall of China with nothing but a change of clothes and a good apple. Ok, maybe a dozen apples.

Denver seems so far away to me now. Having my stuff out of there feels like a closed, locked door with no key.  And I’m not sure anyone inside will let me back in. Sniff sniff.

ok Focus! I think a lot of my life has been halfhearted. I lived in a few different places and never really felt like I was “home” or where I really wanted to be. Typical grass is greener kinda girl. But at the end of the day, I’m the kind of person who really wants to sink my teeth in to whatever I’m doing wherever I am and having bits and pieces of me strewn about the country is just not helpful to my commitment level.

So here I am, regrouped and ready to rumble. Although on further ponderance, I realize I still have a few pieces with various friends and ex-boyfriends all over the country.  Hey, statute of limitations definitely expired on pretty much all of that. Consider it yours. Or your dog’s chew toy. Whateva. Onward and upward, yo!

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