The other day I started a chuck-it bonanza with Philadelphia, you know, AKA the BF.
We are in the car driving from NYC to Philadelphia. I warn him, “You really are going to have to let things go.”
“I know. I know.” he says.
He really will have to let stuff go. Because Philadelphia has a LOT of stuff. Sometimes when I really look the amount of stuff he has I think: I do not believe Philly has ever thrown anything away.
I tell him, “I am not sure you have ever thrown anything away.”
He rolls his eyes at me.
Just like a teenager.
Philly likes to pile his stuff. So not only does he have everything he has ever acquired, he ALSO plops things down wherever he happens to plop them.
Some people are comforted by their stuff.
I myself am a chucker.
But since Philadelphia is Philadelphia and is about the most generous person in this world and others, he is allowing this chuck-fest, even though he is a piler.
We arrive on Tuesday evening. It is late but I think it would be good to just get one room done. I choose the bathroom, since it is smallest. Philly says ok.
In the bathroom there are many, many shelving units. Shelving units that have maybe on one thing on them. Maybe two. I take all of those shelving units out of there.
Philly says, “Where will we put stuff?”
“Don’t worry.” I say.
I don’t REALLY have a total plan yet but I know how the space magic works. I trust the space magic. Over and over in my life the rearranging and the letting go has worked out even when I was terrified and could not see the end.
Next day comes and we begin on the bedroom. We take up the carpet and move the furniture around. Bring things up. Bring things down. When we are done you can see the beautiful old pine floors. I feel so happy I almost cannot stop working.
I go upstairs to the sacred room on the third floor. This room has PAPER. Lots of paper. I start organizing and sorting. Slowly a beautiful frosted glass desk appears.
Who knew it was under there.
Meanwhile, Philly is working in the basement. The basement has miscellaneous everything. It is not pretty. I stay away from there and let him do his thing.
Somewhere in here, we eat.
Day 1 ends. Still we have the whole first floor, now full of everything from the other floors AND the rest of the basement. Oh yeah, and the yard.
Not sure how we will do all that but I try to muster up the trust of the space goddess.
Day 2 starts late since Day 1 ended late.
I CANNOT believe it when we wake up at 9am.
9AM!
I have ideas for the two downstairs rooms, but they involve major furniture moving. I am expecting some resistance upon the receipt of this news but I encounter none at all.
Philly just says, “Ok. Let’s do it!”
God, I love him.
We do it. That and a whole bunch of other stuff. We are on fire baby! In half the day we have the basement and one of the rooms done.
“We can finish this.” I say.
“Yeah.” he says.
When he says yeah I fell like throwing him on the floor and kissing his whole head. But ok, I don’t because that would be really distracting.
We keep going.
We start moving books down stairs. I can see this is hard for Philly. I remember letting go of a lot of books and how much I felt like I did not know who I was without proof of my history.
“It will be ok.” I say.
“Ok.” he says.
Because he is like that. Flexible.
We bring all the books down and get ready for the last push. The last push is always the hardest. All those little items straggled around and almost no energy left to categorize and spatially relate.
Somehow, we make it. Done by 9pm. Indian food ordered to eat in our brand newish dining room.
“When did we start this?” he asks.
“Tuesday night.” I say.
“Wow.” he says.
“Yeah.” I say.
“Tomorrow the yard.” he says.
“Yeah.” I say.
I go back to eating. When he is not looking I peek up at him over the candles. I think: This is the most beautiful generous man in the whole wide world.
And then I think: AND he knows how to rock the chuck-fest.
And that’s my kind of guy.
Yeah.
Summerhead 