Interlude; Musings between posts. Tiny House Dreams

Staged photo from
Staged photo from

interlude [in-ter-lood] noun
1. an intervening episode, period, space, etc.
2. a short dramatic piece, especially of a light or farcical character, formerly introduced between the parts or acts of miracle and morality plays or given as part of other entertainments.
3. one of the early English farces or comedies, as those written by John Heywood, which grew out of such pieces.
4. any intermediate performance or entertainment, as between the acts of a play.
5. an instrumental passage or a piece of music rendered between the parts of a song, church service, drama, etc.

I am in the process of emptying my home.

You know this by now. I write about it often enough. The penultimate goal, living in a tiny house almost anywhere else.

Last week both my washing machine and my fridge decided they were well beyond my ability to repair (again) and the repairs would have cost enough that buying new ones was well worth the little bit of added cost. So we hoofed it to Home Depot, picked out a replacement and called it a day.

Then we got home and proceeded to empty about half of everything in the front room and kitchen in preparation for new things.

I got rid of Tupperware, and it’s not-name-brand cohorts. I kept all my bento supplies. I got rid of miscellaneous kitchen crap that was put away in a cabinet but we haven’t taken anything out of that cabinet in years. I kept my baking pans. I had an empty cabinet! I put things in it, but I only put things we use in it. I’ve taken them in and out multiple times since last week! Those cabinet doors, if they have emotions, must be overjoyed at being used. Or maybe they were lazy cabinet doors, and are grumpy at all the extra work. Either way, they are feeling things they haven’t felt in ages. I anthropomorphize things all the time.

I got rid of some furniture that was doing 100% of nothing except gathering dust. I gave BrotherMine a piece I got from IKEA and never really used. All the sudden my front room looked better. Less cluttered. We could move. We could breathe. I felt relieved at having less, not saddened by not being boxed in by stuff.

Staged photo from
Staged photo from

I let go the lime green designer end table I got with mom for $20. I loved that table. I still love that table. But I love even more how much lighter I felt. I didn’t use the table. It was big, and square, and amazing, and stuffed in a corner. I didn’t use it. I didn’t need it. I still remember hefting that stupid, solid wood, heavy table into the back of the car with my mom. I remember arguing with her that was amazing and I had to have it. It was a good day. But I didn’t need the table to remember that.

I have a not-fully-realized post about things that are easy to get rid of, but I didn’t want to tack these items into that post. Some of what we let go wasn’t easy to let go of, but it was necessary. Letting go of those things has made it easier, not harder, to let go of other things. Maybe it’s just coming with age, but I don’t need to have a house full of things to make me remember the memories they remind me of. I am coming to appreciate wide empty room more than a thick, congested area. Interlude indeed. That next post should be coming soon.

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