Two years ago, we moved.

Ideally, before the move, I would have gone through my stuff and done a thorough declutter. But for almost a year before we put the house on the market, we spent what spare time we had replacing a kitchen and three rooms’ worth of floors, having part of the house re-roofed, a lot of patching, painting, cleaning, garden work, and finally, staging. And it was worth it, even with the cost of the updates. The house sold for 26% over asking.

However, it meant that, instead of a thoughtful keep/donate/sell/toss process, we crammed everything into boxes and moved the lot, planning to do the sort & cull when unpacking.

Best laid plans…

First, closing on our new place was delayed by a month, to the end of October, and a bunch of work on the house was delayed. Our “new” house was built in 1926, and had been a neglected rental for years, so we knew that there were major repairs needed and had planned for them. Of course, they took a lot longer than expected, there were surprises, and, also of course, cost more. Luckily, our garage is huge, separated into a one-car space and a two-car space, so a lot of stuff got stacked in the bigger garage.

By the time the essential work, which included digging up the length of the driveway to replace the sewer line, was done, it was too cold to work in the garage. In the Canadian winter even a couple of space heaters wouldn’t have managed to heat the cavernous double garage. And would probably have tripped the breaker.

The following summer, between more work on the house, recovering from foot surgery, and our annual two-week camping trip, I only got a little unpacking done. So this summer, I’ve finally tackled the rest. The stuff’s been packed up so long that I’m calling it garage archeology, and it’s hard. Really, really, really hard. Dust, dirt – and decision fatigue.

As an artist, I see possibility in so many things! At the moment, the biggest decision I have to make is what possibilities to pursue, and which to pass on. At 81, I don’t have a huge amount of time, so I want to focus. One of the saddest episodes of my life was helping a friend sort out her late husband’s effects. He was a talented musician, but his demons eventually overwhelmed him, and, by the time he died, his collection of “possibilities” was hoarder-level. I do NOT want to follow that path, or burden my kids with a mess to make sense of. So another decision. A complicated one, and not easy.

And emotionally demanding.

But back to the garage archeology Four of us – me, my daughter and my two granddaughters, did the packing. And even though we kept a fairly thorough packing list, it was impossible to list Every. Single. Thing. Because the packing was more by room than by subject, things got mixed. In the first burst of unpacking, when I went by boxes marked “kitchen”, “bedroom”, “bathroom”, etc., I quickly realized that, until I’m pretty sure I’ve found everything for one area, organizing beyond the essentials is frustrating, and has to be redone when more turns up that belongs with the “organized” stuff. So now I’m going box by box, eliminating the obvious, and sorting the rest into temporary collections by subject.

It makes for a two-step sort, which actually helps. When I see all the stuff that belongs to one area, it’s significantly easier to pick out what I want to keep, and what can go! Progress happens, but it’s still not easy.

But, most difficult is that, since the move, I’ve done very little creative work – knit a scarf, made a kirtle, did some sketches, drafted a pattern, and finished a project that had been on hold for years. That would have been maybe a couple of months’ work, and it’s left me feeling bereft. But I know that if I invest the time to conquer this stuff overwhelm– and the “ooo, shiny!” habit that underlies a lot of it, I’ll be better off – and more free to make art.

And it’s brought home to me that stuff you own owns you right back. From a house to a stitch marker, it’s a responsibility, and demands a chunk of your life.