my life in boxes

I'm getting ready to move on Friday for seventh time in six years. You'd think I'd have it down by now but alas, I stare at my stuff and feel overwhelmed at the idea of taking it all with me to yet another location. I have fleeting fantasies of adapting a monastic existence with only as many possessions as I can carry on my back; or I could be like that chic older lady who ran my study abroad program in France and wore the exact same outfit every day but just mixed in different accessories--I bet her wardrobe was manageable. Seriously do you ever look at the things you own and just think: where did this all come from? I always feel guilty looking at my shoes in particular, the money spent should probably be in a 401K or something. And the cocktail dresses! Whose life are those for? To be fair I used to go to a lot of parties when I lived in New York but they're so dressy for Seattle. I could start wearing them on dates I suppose;  people are always doing that on television but in real life doing that tends to make you look like a hooker or a contestant on The Bachelor unless you're going to the theatre or something. Maybe I need to do the reverse of one of those wardrobe challenges where you wear the same five pieces for a month and try to wear everything I own in a month to see if my life really accommodates all the stilettoes and feathered headbands I've been carting with me all over the country.


Are you a pack rat or a minimalist?