The Casting Dock

Posts from — September 2012


I don’t like stuff.
Like material stuff.
There’s just too much of it.
Too many options, too many constant upgrades, just too much stuff.

I am not a stuff person.
I feel stifled by stuff, like it muddles my mind right alongside my physical space.

Jerry and I live in a tiny 500 square foot apartment (shown here from literally one end to the other).

And we do so for many reasons: it’s cheap (I can’t pass up a good deal), I love the location, it’s cheap, I hate to move, it’s cheap, etc. But one main incentive for me is that such a small space does not accommodate the accumulation of stuff.

The larger the space, the more stuff you find to fill it.
No, thank you.

Whenever my pack rat mother asks us if we want to lug some miscellaneous item back from Texas, my first line of defense is simply that we have nowhere to put it. Literally. Our kitchen cabinets, meager as they are, are completely full. They would not, could not house one more mug. Under the bed, full. Under the dresser and the nightstand and the bathroom sink, full. The closets, full. Shelves stuck behind doors, full.  Windowsills, full.

We are at max capacity.

But if I think about it, we’ve been here over two years now and in those two years, we have certainly brought far more in than we have sent out. Somehow we have slowly, despite my best efforts, been accumulating more stuff. Unnecessary, mind-cluttering stuff.

The table, the ottoman, and our dresser–the three flat surfaces in this joint, much to my husband’s chagrin, become storage centers for piles of stuff. Mail, magazines, books for work, scarves, just stuff. Corners start stacking up with miscellaneous boxes and bags. Chairs are re-purposed as staging sites. The backs, the seats, the spaces underneath, anywhere I can put more stuff.

And it’s starting to give me a twitch.

Not only is my apartment perpetually dirty (no one to blame there but myself),
it is also becoming perpetually cluttered.

My plan for these next four weeks is four trash bags, one per week, full of stuff being shipped outta here. Goodwill, the trash, I don’t even care where, just out of here. If I haven’t used it or worn it in the last year, there’s no real point in keeping it around.

Too much material stuff; too little mental peace.

And a bed that hasn’t even been made yet. For shame!

September 22, 2012   3 Comments

The Olympics 2012

The Olympics.
The Maine Olympics, that is.
A competitive weekend of sports and various games.
Two teams, twelve events, unbridled intensity.
An interesting experiment.
Lessons were definitely learned if I ever intend to organize something similar in the future.

But a weekend full of games and sports…
with some of my favorite people…
in one of my favorite places?
It would be hard for me to not love that…
even if there would certainly be some things I would tweak.

Pilot years are good for that though, no?
Learn what worked, learn from what didn’t.
For me, there is nothing better than running around playing sports with competent, competitive people on pretty equally matched teams.

There is little in life that I enjoy more completely.

A fabulous way to spend Labor Day weekend
in the great state of Maine.

Truly the way life should be.

September 15, 2012   2 Comments