These past few weeks have been difficult. Winter won’t seem to end in Oregon this year – while the weather has never been a big issue for me in the past – this year it has been torture. Last week we had our first run of three sunny days since last October and it was like heaven, but then it began to rain again, and hail, and the temperature dropped, and then it began to pour, and that awful grey light wrapped itself around everything and to tell the truth, the sense of despair was worse than it had been before the sunshine – I felt like one of those poor souls in movies who are tortured and tortured and then they are sure they are going to escape and be free, but in fact, that was just a way of the torturer to push them past the edge. That’s where I was. The sun is shining now, there are patches of blue, I feel okay – but the weather is not done and I know that I am no longer suited for the Pacific Northwest. I am fifth generation born here, but the time I’ve spent in tropical places has ruined me for a winter like this.
And now on to the title of the post – the burden of stuff. My god, when I am depressed, the weight of all this stuff is like that of a planet crushing me beneath it. I am selling what I can when I can. I am using craigslist, Let Go, EBay, and retail. I am going to shows and will be having a big garage sale in a few weeks. What doesn’t sell at the sale will go to the dump or the charity shops. We are trying to sell our antique shop, so it makes no sense to give away the quality inventory yet, but soon I will either sell the shop and everything in it or hang up the “Going out of business, Everything must go” sign. I can’t carry this much stuff any longer.