Yesterday was “mostly” move day.
It took about 4 trips, slip-n-slide-style in the VW dodging over-confident soccer-moms in their H2s and Navigators.
Our original intention was to take the big stuff that won’t fit in the house and store it at my dad’s until spring-time when we would then re-schlep everything to my driveway to sell in the upcoming garage sale.
The truck we secured for the big stuff was out of commission from the ice.
In a single moment of clarity and calm I got it:
“fuck it. Fuck it all. – in the end – it means nothing to me”…
The hassle, headache and effort of moving the two desks, a shelving unit and a sofa would probably not offer “that” much in a garage sale. Maybe $400 if we were lucky.
so… Why was I freaking out trying to horde this CRAP only to peddle it later?
Knowing bulk pick-up for the city was coming up – we moved the stuff to the curb..
Standing there, feet frozen, I got a strange sensation. Sitting right there on the street was a symbol of what we’ve talked about doing with the company since 2001. And – at the same time – the symbol of me deciding back in 96′ to go it alone and go into business.
I bought my first chunky old school desk when I got my first apartment. I found it at a used furniture warehouse in what once was a dark dirty corner of St. Louis. (Now a parking lot for St. Louis University).
I paid $180 for it – and it required disassembly and several trips to get it back in my little Golf.
That desk has had 4 different macs on it.
I’ve spilled countless cups of coffee on it.
I’ve billed a quarter of a million dollars from that desk.
I’ve had sex on it.
I was sitting at that desk when every major decision about the company has been made – including getting rid of the desk itself.
It’s not the the physical item that has true worth – it’s the experience and memories attached to it.
On our trip back to the studio for the next load we passed a snow plow truck with the desk stuck in the back of it. I smiled…. Knowing that old thing has a new home and wondering what adventures it will have.
Everything we had put out had been snapped up within an hour. A good day for dumpster divers.
Now after that big babblefest about material things and their meaning – I should note that I’m not giving up our Aeron chairs for nothing – even if it means rolling them by hand the 20 miles out to our suburban home.
And while I’m being a hypocrite, I should also point out that I’m not blogging.