Self
Gravity, Ladders, and the Art of Decluttering
The story of every “thing” we own and how it informs our nesting decisions.
As my hands pushed the ceiling hatch upward, the ladder beneath me suddenly wobbled. My heart caught in my throat as I reached down to stabilize it. Thankfully, there wouldn’t be an early trip to the ER that day, but it was a reminder that gravity is real, and watching.
Trying again, I pushed the wooden hatch upwards, and to the side. A barely-visible string dangled from above. After poking my head up and pulling it, a floating lightbulb revealed my attic’s treasures and I groaned.
“More junk,” I thought. Four boxes, none of which I owned, sat and waited for inspection. It felt like bad karma to leave mystery boxes for the new owners as the old ones had for me. One box was filled with random papers. Another had erotic magazines from the 80s, which felt like a troll move to leave behind. Two boxes had children’s clothes and had been chewed up by some unseen rodent.
A month earlier, my partner surveyed my house and said, “You’re move will only be more expensive, and difficult, if you bring all this stuff.” I was initially defensive, but as she made her points, she initiated one of my most prized reforms: a quest of decluttering, which…
