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It would be untrue to say that we’re downsizing because we’re affected by the news lately: Robin Williams committed suicide.  Lauren Bacall died.  The people of Ferguson, MO are protesting the police murdering a young man, and the police are reacting with a disproportionate, terrifying, unsurprising amount of force.

And yet.

Somehow, these things are related in my brain.  Somehow, living smaller seems to me a way of being kind to our neighbors, caring more for other people than ourselves.  I know that’s not the panacea to depression, death, racism and violence. But it feels like a start to me.  It feels like we’re saying, “I notice I’m not the only one here. I notice you.”

We’ve spent the last two weeks downsizing.  Seth, that wonderful man, has embraced reducing our stuff.  This is HUGE.  I mean, I’d be happy with a fry pan, a good chef’s knife, my kindle and knitting needles.  I’d sit on the floor in an apartment with blank walls, and that would be perfect.  Seth on the other hand needs a bit more to feel at home.  And that’s fine.

It’s a constant source of discussion for us thanks to my attempts to trick Seth into getting rid of our furniture.  And over the last two weeks, as we’ve been finalizing the details of our little house on wheels, Seth has jumped in.  So I spend my weekends posting items on Craigslist a few things at a time so that we’re not overwhelmed.  And we come together in the evenings to sell items and strategize.  It’s working for us.  It’s slow, but humans move at a slow pace. Give me humanity any day.

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