I’ve encountered two challenges while trying to unpack. First, this house has virtually zero closet-space. Second, the movers used an inordinate amount of paper to wrap our stuff and pad the boxes, so much that I am determined not to have professionals pack up ever again if I can help it. If I have less stuff and it is better organized (my current goal), the professionals and their reams of paper should be unnecessary, not that I think they were strictly necessary this time around.
I was able to get this much out by last Friday, recycling day.
Before I figured out that smoothing out the sheets and stacking them would take up less space and, hence, fewer blue bags (before I even knew about the blue bags, in fact), I stuffed all of these boxes – see right – as tightly as I possibly could with crushed paper. Those boxes are pretty big, and there are almost ten of them. The idea of smoothing out all that paper makes me want to cry, though I did about three of them yesterday, listening to Midnight Marauders and Dewdrops in the Garden.
Speaking of which, the project of uploading my very dated CD collection continues apace. I was choosing them at random and putting them back in their little slots until I decided to get methodical about it. Uploaded CDs are now filed in the back of the book so that I will know when I am finished. Though I don’t even like a lot of this stuff anymore (Morcheeba, anyone?), I get an odd pang of nostalgia when I think about discarding the physical recordings, as though they are not just a cumbersome form of digital memory. I plan to get over this. Between a laptop (and another laptop that I have to purchase for work soon), an external harddrive, and my iPhone, this music collection that I don’t even love will be backed up at least thrice. Maybe my nieces and nephews would get a kick out of these relics. Or maybe it’d be further confirmation that their aunt is a humongous dork.
Moving on, our temporary solution to the no-closets problem was to put all of our boxes of clothes in what was billed as a den and was going to be my office. The previous tenants used this as a dressing room, which sounded strangely aristocratic to us, like we’d have to start drinking sidecars at home instead of PBR. However, I was so loathe to procure heavy closet-like furniture, which would be a pain to get up the stairs and unnecessary in our next place (because I hope it has closets), that I was beginning to warm up to the idea.
A trip to Target and the purchase of a cheap wardrobe-like contraption (something like this) saved the day. The fact that it should be easy to disassemble makes up for what it lacks in beauty and structural integrity. I just hope it doesn’t disassemble on its own.
The ongoing process of unpacking my clothes has resulted in four categories:
- Clothes I wear with some regularity. Some items are here on a probationary basis.
- Clothes I plan to repurpose for sewing practice, either as patterns (items that fit well but are worn out or stained) or as scrap fabric. This whole pile is sort of probationary because my one moderately successful foray into sewing my own clothes could very well have been a fluke.
- Clothes to donate to the thrift store.
- Clothes to be made into rags. These were mostly pajamas, and I could probably wear them again as pajamas but I probably shouldn’t.
I swear I have been doing other things besides unpacking over the last 10 days since we got here, and I will post on those things soon, I hope. In the meantime, here is an alleyscape featuring my neighbors’ blue bags all lined up, because I think it’s charming that everyone here recycles, even if it’s probably because it’s (unenforcably?) mandated by the city.