The worst part about moving is packing, until you actually move. I’m sure after this weekend I will tell you the worst part is unpacking. As previously stated, I’m all about only keeping possessions that are useful, joyful, or beautiful. It’s easy to toss the “going out tops” from college, and the jewelry I picked up on clearance, or even my towels I received for high school graduation. There have been a few surprises, these are items that make no sense to take with me but are harder to part with than I would have guessed.
My plate-ware has been the biggest revelation. This may be the only theme I’ve stuck with. I have worked very hard for my cohesive collection of square, white and black plating from Target. Yes, it may be plastic, but has served me well. These are the plates and bowls I served the first meals I cooked in my first apartment. I washed them all by hand because we didn’t have a dishwasher. I didn’t even think you could get attached to plastic plates from Target. There’s no reason in the world to bring them but I will keep my memories of perfected steamed mussels and ruined hard boiled eggs.
My roommate and I hardly even know whose is what for most of the kitchenware. Which to me, cheesily represents how intertwined our lives have been. This is how easily we meshed and got along. She has every cooking appliance you could imagine, rice cooker, wok, keurig (that we will miss dearly), waffle maker, quesadilla maker, George Foremon, and popcorn maker. Maybe I never used the waffle iron, but it’s comforting to know you have one. I’m accustomed to cooking for three and packaging leftovers for lunches.
As I establish a new norm I’m sure I won’t even miss my plates, it was just weird that I didn’t remember I would be moving away from plastic plates at some point. I’m sure there’s a deeper, philosophical analogy that can be made about transitions but truly, I’m not worried about it.