Me & My Stuff, Parting 2

My load of small stuff - cloths, kitchen, bathroom, camping.

When I moved in 2011, I discovered that adjusting from 1800 square feet to 800 square feet was not as hard as I expected, especially once the boxes and books were evacuated (See Me & My Stuff, Parting 1) . There were, however, several thing that really annoyed me in a teeth gritting sort of way.

• The walls. A small space should not have walls.
• Cooking in the kitchen was also very bothersome. It was a galley style that opened into a central hallway. 

 I lived in the apartment for 2 years. The rent skyrocketed after the first year but I stayed put because I'd found the place I wanted to move to - Downtown. They had studio apartments between 500 to 550 square feet located in Downtown area, a block away from a rapid transport station.

It was perfect. Problem was it had a 98% occupancy rate at all times. It took me a year to get in, but I did in 2013.

I didn't have a lot of things to pack up this time since half my boxes last time were books and those were gone. This time most of my small stuff actually fit in my car in one load. I was so surprised! (picture Macaulay Culkin's "Home Alone" face).

This time, there was a furniture issue. I was not going to be able to fit all my furniture into a 500 square foot studio.

I called around to various family members to find out if anyone wanted anything I was thinking about getting rid of. Only the harvest table went back to my parents.

I couldn't exactly hold a yard sale in a apartment, especially one that was gated, and to be honest I was not that impressed with the last one. Instead I decided I would let friends and people in the apartment complex know I was getting rid of some furniture for a price. I did much better than a yard sale because I was able to sell things over months rather than just one day.

The daybed that looked like one of those hospital beds from Madam Pomfrey's ward, went to a family across the hall whose daughter was graduating from her crib. 

 The chair that was originally a burnt-orange velvet was positioned too close to the hearth and suffered fourth degree burns which resulted in it being recovered in a burgundy crushed velvet. When my uncle saw it, he stated "it looks like it came from a house of ill repute." Appropriately,  I thought, the chair was sold to a friend for her boudoir.  

The bookcase my mother and I painted together with a shimmering summer gold inside and the outside was a lovely copper patina, was sold as well. I loved that bookcase, but I had no books.

It's been years since I sold these pieces of furniture but still remember them because of the memories associated with them. I once thought that if I got rid of them that I would be discarding the memories as well. I've just proven that's not the case, the memories are still there and just as strong as before. Maybe even stronger because I don't have the things anymore.

 The remainder of my furniture including bookcases which were given to a teacher and some smaller antiques that I sold to a used furniture store. I sold fewer thing than I did in the 2011 move yard sale but walked away with more money. (There's a lesson to be learned there, I'm sure...)

Afterwards, Me and my stuff moved into 500 square feet without a U-Haul! Whoohoo!