Chicago was a whirlwind – all three trips back there have been. My first trip was the most emotional – I can expand on that when I get to that point in the narrative, but for now I’ll say I was choked up when I passed the building I called home for nineteen years, I was brought back to reality by doctor’s appointments and dealing with insurance again, and I had a full (if not overfilled) schedule of people to see, ending the relaxed vacation pace I had experienced to that point; it was the turning point and/or the beginning of the end of the trip – from there it was non-leisurely all the way east, and I arrived in Southampton a bit shell-shocked. My second trip there was easier – still packed, but with the ability to turn lemons into lemonade, I felt good about it.
Well, this time I was there for a long time, and it was a long-awaited and rewarding trip. I had more medical appointments – when I had scheduled them they were follow-up/maintenance, but they evolved into Peace Corps Response clearance forms and tests and shots. I did some pre-Philippines shopping – it’s still easier for me to shop in Chicago than anywhere else; I know where to find what I need. I gave my first official Third Goal presentation as an RPCV – to the Princeton Club of Chicago, where friendly faces were attentive and asked great questions. I had the last class for my non-profit certificate (or the second-to-last, assuming I finish the coursework for it before the independent study that replaced the one that was cancelled). I had a variety of social activity – a couple of plays, a couple of movies (highlight: Star Trek), a Cubs game and a Sox game (and watched parts of the Blackhawks playoff games – good for them), a drink, a dinner, a dessert, and another highlight – the just-opened Modern Wing at the Art Institute (also the just-opened 20,000-square-foot Whole Foods). Oh, and the all-important haircut.
But the main reason I stayed beyond the class was to go through my storage space. When I came back for Reunions in 2007 after nine months in Morocco I felt that I lived without things that I couldn’t or didn’t part with when I was packing up, and if I had an extra week I could go through and get rid of maybe half of it. I didn’t have that week at the time, but I planned for it this time. I hired a professional organizer to help me – some friends came by as well, but it helped to have someone who was objective and who had a proven system.
The first day we started right in on the boxes near the front of the space. Got through some clothes and some files and some miscellaneous – I ended up with things to toss, things to donate, and things to pass along to friends. The second day she had another assignment, so I was on my own; I continued to go through files. The third day we both realized that we had to get a better handle on what was there, so we moved every single box out of the space and then organized them – photos in the back corner, not to be touched this time, kitchen stuff out of the way, ditto, books in a more accessible corner, since there wouldn’t be enough time this week but there would be next time, files in the front for me to go through after our time together was over, clothes in the middle, and mystery boxes (a.k.a. “front hall closet” also accessible for next time). Our last day together we did all the clothes – about a third of them ended up going downstairs for charity pickup. And the rest of the week I went through as many boxes of files as I could. And yes, I finally got rid of the magazines – eight boxes’ worth.
What was hardest to part with? The things I had saved from trips – maps and brochures and other reminders and explanations of where I had been. And race brochures, numbers and results. I’m still a little sad about those things – but I have to remind myself that I’ll be happier with less clutter than I will be with any individual item. At the same time, it was good to see some of my stuff again – I look forward to being in my own place again.
No comments:
Post a Comment