I am a packrat. At one time, I had more than 800 books – so many that entire walls of my home were nothing but bookshelves built by my husband. I also collected and hoarded fabric. Yards and yards for quilts, clothes, and dolls. Naturally, I had thread to match…and bobbins, zippers, snaps, ribbon, trimmings, beads, and buttons – lots and lots of buttons.
I like sewing so much that I've had as many as 4 sewing machines at the same time, each used for a specialized task. During holidays, my house would often look like a fabric store. (My husband, who liked to carve and build with wood, pretty much kept his tools and supplies in the garage.)
Over the years, in the military and out, every time we moved, we brought all my stuff with us. That’s a lot of boxes. That’s a lot of weight.
I made an incredibly stupid decision a few months ago, and as a result, I find myself in drastically reduced circumstances. In order to avoid becoming homeless, I will be selling, tossing, and giving away practically everything I own, including all my fabric, my sewing machines, and the last of my books.
I’m going home. I’m buying a plane ticket back to Missoula. And all I’m bringing with me is what I can fit into two suitcases.
And that’s it. I feel as though I’ve been to a fat farm, and lost a hundred pounds. I’m giddy with excitement, and I’m scared to death.