Monday, April 26, 2010
Living the Portable Life
Last week I helped my old home teaching companion move out of his central Bountiful rambler. He's married with three kids, and a pretty down-to-earth guy. Yet I was amazed to watch as his belongings were carted out into the front yard. Here was a humble family, completely non-materialistic by modern Davis County standards, and yet the sheer volume of their belongings felt overwhelming. I was reminded of how portable my life really is.
I've moved seven times since I finished grad school six years ago, and none of those moves needed a U-Haul. Mostly that's because I hardly have any furniture (see: $500 bean bag), and partially because I still suffer from that special single person's disease that leads you to store a lot of stuff at your parents' house.
Maybe it's just my transient Mormon heritage, or it could be this romantic notion I have of living on the open road, but I kind of like the idea of being able to pick up and move with a minimum of effort. Don't get me wrong; I have plenty of "stuff." I just don't like the idea of having to make multiple U-Haul trips to get it from place to place.
The ultimate manifestation of this lifestyle came in Chicago, when at any given time I had to be ready to move all my earthly belongings--including a rather awkward and cumbersome mountain bike--with a single Ford Escort Wagon. But even that situation had loopholes. If I really wanted to keep something that wasn't going to make it to my next area, I just shipped it home before transfers.
It's sobering, man...even I own a couple of those stinky candles.