It is very hard to become a minimalist after a lifetime of pack rat-like behavior. But that is what we are forced to do as we start the moving to London process. One would think that getting rid of everything wouldn't be that hard, but when there is so much of everything to get rid of, it is not that simple. The key, I have found, is to check your sentimentality at the garage door. Yes, yes, that Christmas ornament that you made with your sister and your then-boyfriend, now-husband, is sweet, but it's a piece of crap, so get rid of it. The outdated public health books that have been in boxes since 2000? Those go, too. If you haven't consulted them in six years, you're not going to start now. Pictures albums are tricky, because even though you can't remember the names of half of the people in your college photo albums, their pictures do trigger memories. If you have six guitars and a banjo, but you only play one of them, keep that one and sell the rest--even the one that is just like Robert Smith's. What to do with that box of costumes dating back from the days when you had no qualms with walking down the streets of New Orleans in barely more than your underwear? Do you really think that you would be caught dead in any of those slut costumes now, much less in five years?
And we haven't even gotten to what's in the house yet.
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