Getting Off on the Wrong Foot

One of the rules we created for our downsizing effort was that anything we keep needs to be of a size the two of us can move on our own. This was partly to create some self-imposed discomfort as a push toward our minimalist goals, and partly because we’re just stubborn independent sorts.

Think Marie Kondo planning her homestead.

One week before we were scheduled to make our momentous leap to living full time in an RV, Glenn and I were busy packing and making trips to the storage area where all our worldly possessions we don’t otherwise sell or give away will exist while we’re on the road. So far, so good.

The plan was simple and incremental: make a couple of test trips that day with some of the heavier pieces that would fit into our Jeep. We had already completed several trips toting boxes of books and closet contents to our storage space.

A foyer console and some outdoor seating were considered the likely first furniture test candidates. Sure. Those would be great for determining whether our self-sufficient plan would work.

No problem. Let’s make that trip today.

Timing is Everything

Seems my accident-prone self had another “trip” in mind when I stubbed my right toe on a (very) stationary bike.

After the initial shock of impact had passed, I examined the site of throbbing pain – an innocent pinky toe, now pitched peculiarly out and away from my other digits, howling in distressed outrage about the whole situation.

Clearly, I had done something very wrong.

Composing myself, I called Glenn over and broke the news that I had a seriously fractured toe that simply refused to be coaxed back into its usual position. Seeing the odd angle of the poor, tiny, angry thing he concurred and we decided it was time to seek a professional to help put things to right.

So, instead of driving to the storage center, we drove to the local urgent care center.

After a few x-rays, the doc numbed me up and then set about setting the bone (which, by the way, is when I discovered the doc’s definition of “numb” and mine differed by quite a lot!).

Once my toe was placed back at home next to its brethren, we went back to our home to assess what my clumsiness had done to our plans.

Flexibility is Key

Basically, we had to go back to the drawing board.

Instead of closing out each room one at a time in the satisfying, decisive fashion we had envisioned, we were going to have to tackle this with a more traditional “layered” process. I would have to resort to searching the house for whatever I could sort, pack or downsize while seated or wobbly-hobbling in my walking boot.

Several weeks into both the healing and packing processes, we think we successfully adjusted our timeline so we won’t have to resort to the whole production of hiring a moving crew.

We’ve been quite productive, getting things packed into boxes and making the hard choices about what stays or goes. Glenn has been carrying more than his share of the weight. He’s busy selling unneeded furniture and driving Jeeploads of stowage to storage and goods to Goodwill.

On a positive note, the injury has meant that our desire to go play (hiking or biking) while living in our RV full time hasn’t lured us away from this tiring, tedious work as it otherwise could have.

Several weeks after my accident, having blessedly dodged the need for surgery and a pin, my doc says I am mending quite well. My full recovery threshold coincides with our big move and launch date.

With all that behind us, I’ll be looking forward to putting my best foot forward as we embark on our grand new adventure.

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