My old roommate, we’ll call her Lisa, because that was her name, moved out earlier this week. She owned next to nothing, which was great for me when I moved in with half an apartment’s worth of stuff. Her possessions consisted of clothes, a few books, some sparse furniture in her bedroom, a collapsible bike (orange and I want one) and an arts and crafts style rocking chair that she had bought at a thrift store.
I was out of town last weekend but she assured me that she was moving out on Sunday. Awesome. So wasn’t I surprised when I got home around 5pm on Sunday and her stuff had not been touched. I panicked slightly as my new roommate was scheduled to make her grand appearance (with a shit ton of stuff) on Monday morning.
Lisa comes moseying (‘mosey’ really is an accurate term in this case) in around 6pm. Upon entering her room her first exclamation is “I have so much stuff. I hate having all this stuff.”
Then she proceeds to start organizing and packing.
All of her crap…err…possessions are packed up and sitting in the living room ready to be transported, and her room is dusted, vacuumed, and spotless by 8:30.
We’ll forget the fact that she also managed to find some random dude with a truck to move her at 10pm on a Sunday night. Oh to be so carefree and trusting of strangers (I thought to myself as I locked my bedroom door and refused to leave as long as Mr. Craigslist Mover Man was there).
In some ways I admire her for her lack of materialism and her laid back “it will all work itself out” attitude. Even if I owned as little stuff as she did I don’t think I’ll ever be as nonchalant about the moving process. But cheers to her.
I probably could have learned a bit more from her.
Underemployed and Dreaming 