French Pressed Columbian Roast

I was staring at mountains of stuff in my parents' garage feeling a medley of emotions. There was of course the I HATE MOVING emotion. And the WHY OH WHY DID I BUY SO MUCH CRAP emotion. But mainly it was MY LIFE IS BEING DRASTICALLY MINIMIZED emotion. We lived in a three bedroom house that was 1800 sf. Complete with outdoor furniture and a full attic. My new space is 800 sf and no backyard. I poured through my things and brought only the essentials with me to my new space. All else went in the dumpster or still lives at my parents. My huge coffee pot is now a French Press. It is the most fabulous, minimal cup of coffee I have ever had.

Living in a small space encourages simplicity. With the rubble I left behind, I also sloughed off unnecessary barnacles of my previous life. I left behind the WHAT DO I DO WITH MYSELF ALONE box. I left behind the DIVORCED CONFUSION box. I ditched the UNSTABLE box. And the PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME box (that one was particularly nice to say goodbye to). The I'M A TERRIBLE MOTHER box is stored there...not entirely ready to close that one completely. But the others can go to the place where Woody and Buzz hopefully reside (please God, do we need another Toy Story?). Ain't nobody got time for that s**t. Here's to my fabulous, small, intensely tasty Columbian Roast.