About six months ago, we took a major step into new territory. Hubby and I have always shared a love for traveling, but as of late, he's been pretty much the only one to enjoy that luxury, thanks to a job that requires frequent overseas trips. It is an inescapable fact of having a large family that being away from home for even one night is complicated at best, hugely expensive no matter what. So we did something we had discussed for quite some time--we purchased a travel trailer. Neither of us is getting any younger, and we don't want to wait another ten years until our nest is empty to get out and experience other places, so why not just pack up our house and take it with us?
Believe it or not, this plunge into RV travel brought with it an unforeseen side effect. Suddenly we had to evaluate what was truly necessary and what was just extraneous fluff. Stuff equals weight, and weight in an RV is a precious commodity.
We had researched our purchase options thoroughly and made our decisions practically rather than aesthetically (No, Mr. Salesman, we actually DON'T need a couch more than we need a table big enough to seat seven somewhat comfortably!) and we found a model that would suit our needs, but as we started filling those cabinets and storage compartments, we realized quickly that we could either prioritize what we packed into our little home on wheels or we could become the types of consumers who quickly get discontented and seek an upgrade because "we need more space".
Unbeknownst to us, this would trickle into our sticks and bricks life as well. The more I prioritized and organized the camper (and took things OUT that I found were not used and just taking up that valuable space), the more I felt claustrophobic in our house full of stuff.
2650 square feet is by no means a small dwelling, even when it houses seven humans. Okay, yeah, when you add seven cats, two dogs, and two turtles, it feels a bit smaller! At any rate, though, we have fought a long battle with clutter in the thirteen places we've called home in the last twenty-eight years, and it seems as though no matter what the square footage or availability of storage space, the battle rages on.
The only time I can recall feeling completely at ease in the four walls we called 'home' was the four months we lived in a tiny two-bedroom apartment with our oldest two children while hubby was in training between duty stations. We were only allowed to ship 400 pounds of household goods to that location, and the only other belongings we had with us were what fit in our little four-door sedan with us! We didn't have the financial means to get a furnished apartment, and we couldn't buy a bunch of stuff because when we moved again, we still had to fit it into the car or in the 400-pound shipment we were allowed to carry us to the next duty station!
At twenty and twenty-two years of age, respectively, we got an experience that we wouldn't come to fully appreciate for many years. Sure, we learned that life isn't about the stuff you surround yourself with, but with two toddlers in tow and little more than air mattresses, a few toys, a playpen, and very basic kitchen equipment, we were just trying to survive. It wouldn't be until two and a half decades later that we would realize what we really learned during that period of forced minimalism:
You don't need a lot of stuff to live well.
Packing this camper for two different short trips set something in motion in my mind that I'm truly thankful for. I was forced to realize that all this STUFF I've been surrounding myself with at home was not just unnecessary, but it was actually causing some of the stress I was trying so hard to eliminate! Even four nights away from home, I came to appreciate the simplicity of not being in a cluttered environment, and returning home to it brought all of the stress back as quickly as it had been removed.
It wasn't *life* I needed a break from, it was the constant, never-relenting drain of managing an environment that was quite literally overtaken with stuff that gives very little (if anything) back to our lives.
It's crazy how freeing it is to just leave it all behind--yes, even the laptop (although hubby isn't at that point yet, he can't leave the electronics behind). I don't have to maintain piles and stacks. It has taken maybe three hours of active time in eleven days for me to wash, fold, and take care of laundry for the five people who are calling this RV home for the time being.
Three hours. Tops.
You don't even want to know how much time is devoted to laundry duty at home. All I'll say is there's a hidden meaning to the name of my blog.
At present, I'm swyping out this blog post on my phone, sitting in my bed while sipping coffee and watching the sun come up. The kitchen is completely clean, the bathroom is completely clean, the living space is clutter-free and clean, and the floor is even swept. It takes maybe an hour a day to maintain the ENTIRE camper, including washing and putting away the dishes!
That's freedom, folks. And I'm loving it.
