Kelly

It’s no exaggeration to say that I’ve been decluttering stuff in my life for the last 5 years. Knowing that I wanted to move eventually, I’ve been culling things which are worn out, duplicates and no longer needed.

That said, I still packed 250 boxes for my move + a bunch of furniture and random items.

I’ve actually been keeping track during my unpacking process (1 week today since the POD arrived) because moving 20 or 50 boxes is easily trackable. Moving plant stands and bed frames and nightstands and fans and step stools and rugs is harder. And often more difficult to move, if the memory of me flip/dragging my desk up the porch stairs is any indication.

I’d always said that I would likely declutter again as I unpack and that’s proving to be true. When I’m hauling boxes, physically and mentally exhausted and ready for a shower and a beer, I am cursing my need to hang on to “stuff.”

But when I’m opening those same boxes, unearthing my books and flamingo plant holder and china and gumball machine, I love my “stuff.”

It’s interesting from a statistics standpoint to evaluate the physical weight of the things I own (thankfully the POD price was not impacted by weight, just distance), but I tend to think more about the emotional weight.

One thing I was careful about when packing was not to bring along too many unfinished projects. If something had been lingering on that mental to do list for years, hauling it 2,000 miles was not going to make it easier to finish.

So while I sweat from my shins and haul boxes and furniture and all my “stuff,” I consider if each item has a purpose or brings me joy. If not, it’s in an empty box headed for charity.

As soon as I find the closest charity shop…

I tend to oscillate between two ways of being, both of which I find valuable.

The first comes from my Type A planning nature which insists that I know what I’m doing and when I’m doing it. The second side of my nature requires me to live in the moment, feel into my body, and honor where I am, even if that means not having a plan.

This most recently came up when planning a road trip of over 4000 miles. The day before I left I was asked a simple question, “what time are you leaving in the morning?” I did not have an answer.

I could have said I will leave at 5 AM, but then if I slept poorly or decided to leave earlier or later, I would feel like I hadn’t kept my word. Instead I decided to say I would leave when I felt as if I had enough sleep. This frustrates some people in my life and even myself because I like to be somebody who can keep my word makes plans and follows through.

However, I have learned how important it is to honor myself.

This came up many times when I was driving throughout my house scouting trip and moving out to my new home. I could have spent hours researching hotels that allowed dogs, had great reviews and were on the route I’d chosen.

But in the midst of the moment, I might find myself pushing too hard to make it to the hotel I’d chosen. I might reach the hotel and decide I could drive another hour.

On one day I’d missed lunch, gotten badly sunburned and the dogs were overheating. While I’d planned on driving another 200 miles, I had no qualms pulling into a hotel and calling it a day. The headache I had was eased by the air conditioning and I woke up refreshed the next morning.

Of course, if I have a client commitment or have made an appointment than I am more likely to push through discomfort and keep my plan.

As I’ve become aware of this push and pull, I’m learning to live with not having a plan or making adjustments on the fly. It looks like checking in with how I feel, especially when I’m experiencing pain, considering the risks and rewards of changing a plan and trusting myself.

While the reading challenge I think I’d most succeed in is the one on RuPaul’s drag race… I’ve started a new personal challenge that’s sure to keep me busy.

As you may know, I’m an organization freak. I love a good spreadsheet and “completing” collections. So when I say I have over 1,000 books I know I have 1,167 in 32 boxes.

The last thing I want to do is unload all those boxes onto shelves and then, at some point in the future, repack slightly dustier volumes when I move next.

So I got the idea to read my books. Groundbreaking, I know. But I mean ALL my books from the Art of War to 2020’s newest release. I’m starting with the easiest ones, paperback books to young readers that I collected as a kid and once loved.

I am finding that some are as charming as I recall, even though they’re nearly 100 years old, and some have NOT aged well at all and are barely 40 years old.

While I work on this challenge I have a few guidelines:

1 – I’m unpacking books as I read them, which should give me plenty of time to source and install my office bookshelves.

B – The only new books I can buy are ones that complete a series. This should be somewhat affordable since most of my series are older, though there is one volume left that is $70-150 in a great series that I can’t bring myself to purchase.

3 – I’m tracking all of the books I finish on Goodreads where I have all of my books on a “to be read” list. This was mostly so I can look up books at stores and find out if I already own them or not but now I’m going to crush that 2020 reading goal.

Ever since I announced my intention to move out of California I’ve had the same question, “where are you going?” Which is, to be fair, an honest question.

At first the answer was easy, “I don’t know.”

My choices were endless but I needed to know my budget and find the right house. Out of the hundreds I watched and bookmarked and researched, I found The One in June and closed in July.

It’s in the Midwest. 

That’s all really most people need to know.

But I’ve been hounded, endlessly, by the curious about where EXACTLY it is. 

And I’ve chosen not to disclose the location. 

I have some reasons which won’t be shared here but let’s talk about the main one: privacy. 

You cannot unsay something. Once it is known and in the somewhat public domain there’s no going back. As a somewhat public figure I have to consider privacy with everything I do. 

Do I share when I’m on vacation?

Do I advertise speaking at a conference?

Do I mention I’ll be road tripping for a month?

One of the stories that changed my mind on how much to say came from this account. While I’m not a personal fan of this author, knowing what he experienced makes me think about my own safety. 

Another big reason I won’t be sharing my location is y’all don’t need to know! I do have a PO Box in a town on the way to “town” — if you live in the country you know what I mean — which I would share privately if necessary. 

But most of y’all will never be sending me mail or visiting (if you were invited, let’s be clear I may have a bigger house but it is not a hotel). I know this because many of my friends live internationally and scattered around the country. 

For those people who might live closer and want to visit, well, I lived 90 min away from the town I grew up in for 14 years. In all that time, 2 people from my hometown visited and one has since passed away. 

We like to scoff and whine about celebrities and people on social media sharing their whole lives from what they eat, wear, read, how they decorate, travel, and on and on. I’m doing the opposite so if you’ve only ever followed me for recipes 😂 or decorating pictures or to know what I do day in and day out, you’re going to be disappointed. 

And if your feelings are a bit hurt, I understand but what you to know this is not about you.

This is a personal boundary that I am willing to defendant it’s simply not important to know my location at this time. Still annoyed? Then take a moment to ask yourself why I should compromise my privacy and boundaries for your curiosity. I’m very interested in knowing the answer.

Americans are embarrassed by Americans too.

Although the news will highlight our idiotic president, foolish lawmakers, COVID party college students and the many covidiots screaming about masks and conspiracy theories, reasonable folks are out here too. 

We’re washing our hands, wearing masks (around our noses too!), socially distancing and sanitizing the shit out of things we touch. 

Personally speaking, I have traveled more than I anticipated after moving in March and again in July so I am even more cautious. I hand wash and dry my mask thinking of a colleague whose little boy has cancer. I restock my hand sanitizer praying for my cousin who lost her grandad to COVID. I keep on that mask when it’s hot and sweaty and uncomfortable and think of my cousin working shifts at a Texas hospital on the COVID unit.

We know that the worst among us are the best news fodder, but they are not the only Americans.

As one of the 42% of Americans with a passport, I hate that we have been banned from visiting your beautiful counties. I mourn the fact that my friends and clients don’t feel safe to travel to America either. 

Even as I acknowledge that our government has failed, our leadership is weak, our healthcare system is broken, and our economy is faltering, I understand these choices have consequences on the world stage. 

Trump made the choice to ignore reality, lie about risks, scoff at science, hide information, play golf, and consign hundreds of thousands of us to death.

And they were choices. But we are out here engaging with the truth as well, trying our damndest to convince fellow Americans that COVID is not a hoax, masks do work and social distancing is the responsible thing to do.

However, change is difficult.

Voters continue to believe the bullshit that we cannot possibly have a living wage, healthcare, paid time off, free education or a government safety net that provides dignity and care. Oh no, not if it means taxing some billionaire named Jeff.

I promise that as you shake your heads and wonder what’s wrong with those damn Americans, we know. We fight against the ignorance and conspiracies all day long. 

While the president should have never made masks a political symbol, it turns out they are quite appropriate to indicate that one:

• Believes in science 
• Listens to experts
• Cares for the well-being of others 
• Is willing to sacrifice some comfort to protect lives 

Let’s just agree that America needs a course correct and while it feels like turning the, already hit by an iceberg, Titanic we are trying our best.

Two weeks ago I bought a new old house and the FIRST stop I made with keys and paperwork in hand was the insurance agents office. I’d gotten some quotes before moving in but they were too high (like more than 10% of the house cost high).

So today when I saw that a family who bought and began to restore their own 100+ yo home had it burned to the ground by a freak lightening strike, I was devastated for them.

Even a full rebuild of a home that age wouldn’t preserve all of the original charm.

However, they also discovered, after the fire turned their dream to cinders, that they don’t have insurance. So not just the purchase price but the work that went into the foundation, roof and renovations is lost.

It’s very sad.

And I’m sorry, but how the FUCK do you not ensure they insurance has been bought? I know the mortgage company was “supposed to take care of it” but it’s your life and money on the line!

I got a few more quotes before signing locally and those 2 days I was nervous as hell.

And this family, who I won’t name or link to, had raised nearly $10,000 from donors to renovate the home! If someone gave me ten grand you bet your ass I’d be increasing my coverage first.

Good insurance will protect your investment, mine covers 100% of the purchase price of my home, plus my personal property on top of that. It wouldn’t be enough to rebuild but at least I could start fresh.

I don’t want to pile on and I’m truly saddened for this family’s loss — thankfully no one was injured! — but this is adulting.

If you own, lease or borrow for a car, motorcycle, RV, house or business make sure your insurance is active and sufficient. Today. Because freak lightening strikes happen and I cannot cope with the sob story that begins with “we didn’t know…”