Despite heroic efforts of epic proportions to stem the tide of - let's face it - Stuff.
I tried my best, I really did. But what I didn't know then, while packing, was that of course, living here in Paradise aka the Island does not include stuff.
Not old stuff.
Not almost new stuff.
Not expensive stuff.
Or cheap stuff.
Nope. None of the above.
Not any of your stuff from your former life at all, really.
Heady stuff, that.
I feel like I am in the witness protection program.
"No m'am, you can't take it with you. It won't do you any good there."
What we need, I discovered was new stuff, for a different life.
An island life.
What kind of stuff would that be, you ask?
Well, let's see.
Industrial size flashlights to see where we are going at night on paths to and from the car, to and from the woods for dog constitutionals, to and from the bars - parking near the bars in winter is difficult. Lots of escapism here lol. And there are Environmental Lighting Rules.
|Quest Box Great Rock Bight (photo by Stacy)|
In winter, it's layer, layer, layer, so: Carhartt, carhartt, carhartt.
Best damn pants for work and dump runs. Yes, if you need to get rid of anything larger than Bruno's Garbage is willing to take on their weekly pick-up, it goes the town dump. In our village, there's also town pick-up, where you need stickers for the garbage bags - but that's one more thing I don't want on my to-do list. I have heard tell that occasionally, a 5 dollar bill has been taped to the bag when the household ran out of stickers late at night and the garbage HAD to go out. But, I think that it wouldn't fly for me to be doing that every other week, since I am prone to not remembering to get stickers. We are Team Bruno's here.
In summertime, you don't need much except a good pair of sandals and a fishing rod. (We will save the Islander Dress Code for another post.)
4-wheel drive for the beach and the snow. Not too many people can drive on the beach, and the best on-shore fishing is where cars can't go. Oversand driving permit needed. Rust optional.
No room for extra Christmas decorations. No room for fancy glassware, or serving dishes, or the mounds of momentos of former lives, handed down and kept out of family angst.
No extra linens, just the flannels M'am. Cotton jersey in the summer. Like sleeping in your t-shirts.
No extra blankets, all-season down comforters work winter and summer.
Not that I jettisoned everything from the mainland life. No, far from it. But we have gotten down to brass tacks. And that brings me to the present dilemma. Where to put stuff while we go through stuff to keep stuff we actually can use here on the Island.
It has come to this: the POD Man Cometh.
Yes, we now have on loan, a POD storage container, from which to stage the bricks and bracks of the former life. To deal with what Goes and what Stays.
Thanks, Mr. POD man. I have exactly 12 weeks, or 84 days, or 2,016 hours to get a Life. :)
Have a good one.