A Life Decluttered: The Move & Merge Part II

When we arrived back in Indy, I couldn't get out of that car fast enough. I'd been wedged into a teeny space on the passenger seat, pillows, books and shoes stuffed around me. Remember that trip to L.A.? Add a 12 hour drive from NYC to Indy -- my tush was sore. We are not meant to live a seated life, that's all I'm going to say.

We unloaded the car. Just dumped everything I owned into his living room. The house wasn't huge - 1,000 square feet. But after years in NYC living quarters, I felt like I was moving into a palace. Over time I'd take his suggestion and call it 'our' home, but not yet. 

The mess we'd created in the living room made me want to dive into the organizing. Dive like an Olympic champion. But I couldn't. I had to get back on a plane to New York. Not kidding. Another meeting - this time with a director - would take place January 2nd. So we rang in the New Year, and off I went to the airport. 

The meeting went well. I stayed in a hotel for a few nights. Not in my old apartment. It wasn't mine anymore. I guzzled green juices and winked at the Rockefeller Christmas tree. It was a brief visit. And, much to my surprise, I was ready to leave. My mind couldn't shake the image of the house with its piles of clothes and boxes. Clearly, if clutter distracted me from the beauty of the city, I have a one track mind when it comes to organizing. 

I don't have many regrets, guys. But I really wish I'd taken before & after shots of the house. Before Maura moved in; after Maura decluttered. I like to tell people that I donated about half of my man's house to Goodwill. He likes to tell folks that if he had anything that was precious lying around, he'd tie it in a plastic bag and throw it into the pond behind the house so I couldn't get my hands on it. 

Funny, the different perspectives people have about the same event... :)

We met in our early thirties and by that time, many of his friends were married. He was the bachelor who'd get the cast-off kitchen appliances, the patio furniture, etc. It never occurred to him to say no. So there was a lot of stuff and much of it was useless. Honestly, I was ready to level the place, but it turns out there was something more important to me than my desire for a serene space: my relationship. I loved this guy, I respected him and I think he has great taste (he chose me, am I right guys?!). This was his home and I was the newcomer. If I bulldozed through it, I was risking our relationship. I knew he was intrigued by my minimalism, but I also knew he had possessions that he cherished. I just didn't know what they were. Yet. We had to sort through all the clutter to figure that out.

It was a delicate maneuvering. We literally tip-toed our way through his stuff, his belongings, his life. We survived The Merge because of one singular fact: mutual respect. (Also: my guy is the most laid-back man I've ever met.)

We used the second bedroom as the staging area. His former roommate had moved out and it was empty. I went through every room, every closet and every cabinet. I laid items out in the bedroom. He'd return from work and we'd go through every piece, one at a time and he'd 'yay' or 'nay' it. Every.single.item. Along the way, he told me stories... about the time in India when he'd purchased the coasters while his friend was in the hospital - he'd fallen ill and their plans changed suddenly (the coasters stayed)... about the summers he went camping with his pals, always a new spot, always nature at its finest (his camping gear stayed, we just consolidated it into one big box)... about the Ansel Adams prints he'd always admired in his aunt and uncle's house, which they eventually gave to him, because every man needs an Ansel Adams print (we kept it).

He told me stories of his life - about the people he loved and the memories he had of them. I got to know him as he walked down memory lane. 

The CD collection, on prominent display.

This is the essence of why I love to declutter and organize. When you work your way through all the stuff and pair down to the essentials - the pieces you need and the pieces you do not wish to part with - you really learn a lot about a person. My man loves music. Just -- with passion and curiosity and a hunger to know more. So the CD collection stayed. Is it necessary now with iTunes and what have you? Nope. Is it an eyesore? Yep. Are there absolutely no stylish ways to display CD's? As far as I know. But does that collection remind my husband of those formative years when music first got his attention? It does. I learned that during The Merge. 

I had the time of my life that week. I was setting up a home. Throughout much of my twenties that was the farthest thing from my mind. I was a creative - I prided myself in traveling light (plus I preferred to spend my money on clothes, not plates, thank you very much). Then somewhere along the way, something shifted and I longed to make a home. And here I was, doing just that. 

And the Goodwill truck did arrive one afternoon and we loaded it full. The two car garage fit two cars again. The second bedroom was now a serene writing space. The kitchen was for cooking, the walk-in closet fit my clothes, and you could - wait for it - walk in it. Everything in our home had a place. Our favorite items were on display, each holding a story from our lives. 

So much has changed since that one momentous week in my life, a week when The Unknown stared me down and I leaped into it. Over a year later, my production team would part - amicably - with the A List Actress. The Dream Director would attach herself to the project. All that travel worth every mile. My man - one rainy afternoon - would get on his knee and ask me to spend the rest of my life with him. In the thick of the polar vortex our loved ones would gather in northern Indiana and we'd marry. If I knew then what I know now, would it have mattered?  Would that have calmed me during the frenzy of it all? Knowing that good things were afoot? I don't think so. I was already living the good things. And I knew it. I thrilled in the exciting trips, and I lost myself in the homemaking. I remember saying 'thanks' a lot to myself that week. If life has taught me anything it's that the good times come and the good times go. I'm so glad I can just appreciate them while they are here.