I've decided to start a new feature. It's called (as you saw from the title of this entry) The Departure Diaries. These entries will chronicle my movements toward becoming a full-time traveler.
In moving towards living on the road, I've constantly got a zillion ideas popping in and out of my head. Sometimes I pause and jot down a few things or make mental notes. For instance: I'm going to create a proper website/blogsite of my own that is not a blogger templated thing. It will be entirely mine. Cool, huh? But what will it be called? What will the address be? Should I stick to eyewandereyewriteeyeclick? Or should I move in an entirely different direction? I don't know yet. What do you think?
The big news today is that I've stopped collecting things for my present life. Somewhere in the past two weeks, when I put my foot down and decided to do this, all of those plans for my house and improvements to it have become irrelevant. I've started questioning my well-stocked pantry. It is probably too early to do that yet. After all, I will need to eat for the next year or so.
I've begun to question my beautifully managed supply of toiletries and medicals - you know, things like Contact solution, Pepto Bismal, Tylenol, Ricola cough drops and Excedrin tension headache. At what point to I cut off buying those things? I won't stop needing them at random intervals, of course, but obviously I'm not going to pack my hall closet around the world on my back.
For now, I've settled peaceably in that ever-gyrating cavern of my mind on this: I will not buy that new end table, or wicker basket, or duvet cover. I will not purchase another attachment for my Cuisinart stand-mixer. I will not acquire new dishes, or that beautiful Restoration Hardware leather couch that I've coveted for six years, or a new mattress, or a Dyson vacuum cleaner. Those things have all been on a list of to-gets/wants/wishes in the back of my mind.
So there! Take that, world of consumerism! You've been extremely convenient, and very kind to take my money over the past three years. You've offered up a wealth of stuff that has made my little house a cozy, neat and convenient home, but I'm done for now.
No more awesomely terrifying trips to Ikea. You know what I'm talking about.