Nesting

The apartment is coming along nicely. But there appear to be an unending number of projects that are essential to establishing order in a small space. I find myself drawn to home after work, drawn to the installation of curtain rods, the measuring of kitchen cabinets, and the destruction of graduate school files for example. One afternoon was devoted to separating myself from two boxes of cards, ticket stubs, and playbills. I was gratified to get everything into one box and I probably could have reduce the contents of that box more. My fingers were itching to toss various packets of letters from people I had not spoken with in years; but somehow I just couldn't do it. I decided that the pleasure of reading the letters again at some point in the future, as a way of remembering a different time in my life, would outweigh the freedom gained from ridding myself of that particular box of clutter. I am trying to embrace the process of cleaning, extracting, leaving behind things they might be weighing me down. But that requires a balance with maintaining the pleasure of having reminders of other parts of your life. For instance I found six letters from a student in Northern Ireland that I had during an internship I did in a school. I remembered that she had written me, but had no idea that it was that many times. My compromise is to limit myself to one box. If everthing I have saved between 1995 and 2004 is in one place, then I can't be too out of control.