A moving parable.

It occurred to me, oh valiant reader, that I had somehow been moving form apt to apt over the past few years, and the composition of the move has morphed dramatically ... but many of the mainstays have remained.

Senior year college. Moving into University Terrace. The essential necessities for the first load in to the new place. several cases of Ramen, knives, 18 Volt toolkit complete with circular saw, some clothes, some shoes, a couple nice dress shirts, a futon, frozen juice, trunk of booze, several cases of books, art materials, film cameras, too many pillows, lockpick set, computer(s), box o' electronics, more books, boules set, and several boxes that just said 'kitchen'. Somehow, there were two carloads of this ... and more furniture slowly accumulated over the year.

This move. Second move in two months - long story about the landlords ... maybe if I get a big enough comment reaction I will tell it sometime ... but suffice it to say - I had sent most of the big stuff home to a storage unit, and was left - yet again - with the essential survival mix. 5 bags of shoes, an entire backseat of clothes - half of which were laid out on hangers, 2 huge boxes of food and knives, frozen fillet mignon, boxes of books and binders, computer, duffel bag full of electronics, film cameras, two pillows, boules set, croquette, toolbox, ironing board, and a box of glass seashells.

There are more details, of course, but I am not Joyce. I will spare you the discussion of how the style and cut, even occasionally brand, of groin undergarment has changed over the years. Or an accounting of all of those shoes, and the tantalizing validity of their purchase at the time. Even, just what I need all those cables and hardware for - or what possesses me to carry around well over a thousand dollars worth of it in a duffel. Should I detail the many suits that I now travel with, and the name-brand accoutrements that accompany them? do I count the suits with pants that need to be fitted? Or the ones that desperately deserve dry-cleaning? does it emasculate me to discuss the desire to dry-clean my clothes, or that I can't seem to get in touch with a good inexpensive tailor ... or just the shoes from the beginning?

yeah, I thought so.

I have more in the storage unit.

And more clothes.

The difficult part of it is that I could get rid of it all, willingly, and without really feeling too remorseful (get rid of - read: sell, gift, storage) but I would just buy it all back! I refused to bring up those extra shoes and clothes and books and gear. And what was the first thing that I bought? new shoes at the mall, JC Penny clothing binge, sale annex at Barnes and Noble (such good deals ... how can anyone resist?), and new gear.

Not that I am lamenting per se - I did, after all, have the means to do it all without pain. But does this relatively new obsession with consumerism contraband have to continue? I hope not. It's to the point where I need something new to emphasize any new change. Taken up rock climbing again? -- new pair of shoes (and no, these count as gear technically, and were not included in the aforementioned shoes), chalk bag, chalk ball. Biking longer distances? -- Garmin 305 Edge gps, with heart monitor, and cadence sensor ... no new shoes yet ... but I did allocate one pair of sneakers to be just biking now - then there are the indoor sneakers - then there are the comfy sneaks for walking around - and the leather sneakers for casual dress - damn ... is there a help group for this? does it meet at TJ Max? because that's where I keep going.

take from this what you will - but this move feels much more organized, structured, consolidated, and grown up. Still packed a lot in milk crates (surely not any illegal milk crates borrowed from back alleys on Pine st in the night), plenty of ziplock and plastic bags, and an item or two that got packed and had to be fished out to be used before being re-packed again. maybe the clothes were folded and put into a huge f-leather suitcase, or kept piled together on hangers, instead of thrown into white trashbags and crammed into the trunk. Instead of Ramen and corn and three spice mixes, there was wheat linguine and jasmine tea (I'm not a hippy. this is just one small sampling. I eat confined, tortured, dismembered animals weekly. they taste good) and dozens of herbs in little glass jars. So, I'm not really worried that I've started being too grown up. No leather couches. No huge TV. And I don't have a burning desire to bring my appliances from home to home. The only thing that is starting to worry me ... is that I have gotten a little too good at building impromptu shoe racks.