My room is the most cluttered room I control — a bed, two desks, a bookcase, and two closets. I have thinned out the clothes, and I have many pictures on the walls. But I can feel the thinning out of things, that my possessions are waning.
I like rooms that are spare and to the point. In my old house some of the rooms were empty by design. A house I used to live in long ago, a small house, had white-washed walls and oak floors. I suggested that the furniture be limited to a chair and a vase, nothing more. I was overruled.
In this house it is the porch that is being emptied out, all the leftover stuff from my many sales now in hands of Chris Brown’s grandmother who lives on a busier street and is something of a garage sale wizard. This is how I make money now, selling off my old life while making room for a new one.
It is hard to live and work in such a small space. Downstairs is cooler, quiet and empty. The porches are too hot to stay on for long. But I see the quiet progress, the boxes disappearing one by one and I am pleased.