The Silver Palace, she is home!

The Silver Palace, she is home

Last Monday I drove down to Portland to get the Silver Palace. I was given a two-hour walkthrough tour of my Airstream (which took more like three and a half...I'm a nurse, one should expect that I would have a million more questions than the average Airstream-purchasing bear). My guide showed me how to drain water, fill water, switch propane tanks, manage electrical capability, lower my awning, and finally, how to reverse into a parking spot. My guide had the patience of a saint - I think he only ripped out one or two small patches of hair. Finally, I pulled of the oh-so-safe dealership lot and white-knuckled it all the way home. 

Now begins the process of moving from a house to a very small camper. This just got oh so real. In the intervening time between having my Airstream stored and picking it up and hauling it home (six months), I imagined the storage in the Airstream getting larger and larger – in my head. I would look at an item – should I take it or not? – and think “Oh, I’ll have room.” Reality says “No, indeed you do not. “ So now I must revisit every item I thought I would need in my new Airstream life. My Vitamix? Nope. Blender? Nope. Small food processor? Nope. Collapsible laundry basket? Nope. Fabric closet hangy thing in which to store folded shirts, bras and the like as if I were a storaging genius? Nope. And nope.

The thing is, I have a pretty severe weight restriction, and things are heavy. The stacks and stacks of books I intend to read one day cannot come with me. Ideally, I would cohabitate with one book at a time instead of hoarding volumes and volumes in the hope that one day I’ll hunker down and get to the business of enriching my mind. And clothes – I have heartlessly thinned out my closet, but I can tell already that not even half of my clothes will be able to come on the road with me. Gleaning my already-small pile of wearables will be made easier by the fact that I have nowhere to store even a moderate foldable laundry basket. My solution is simple: Wear only clothes that can all go into the same laundry bag. Or laundry lunch box, as space dictates.

I’ve had to change my mind about what constitutes a needful thing. My move-in process involves two steps: Move all the necessities in first, then the luxuries in the space left over. Over the thundering sound of God laughing, my list reads as follows:

Necessary:

• -        Work clothes
• -        A few books that I know I’ll read
• -        My bike
• -        Spinning wheel
• -        Vitamins
• -        Small pan, pot, and dishes
• -        Printer
• -        Clothes for both hot weather and cold
• -        A small ceramic heater for cold weather
• -        Towels (bulky, but light. Hooray!)

I’ve decided to not take any cookbooks – I can look recipes up online. I will not take a blender – I can mix things with a whip. I will have to seriously cull my spice collection. My movies will have to stay in storage – if I want to watch a movie I can rent it from the library or read a book. I will greatly miss my Miss Marple mysteries, but alas, the grand dame of intrigue just won’t fit on the little shelf allotted for DVDs.

Thinking about "what is a needful thing" makes me feel slightly silly about studiously cramming every nook in the Silver Palace with something I "just can't live without." I mean really, if I only take the necessities, I could probably do a cartwheel in the postage stamp-sized kitchenette. And no, I am not ready to throw out my little makeup bag. Could I do without it? Indeed, I live without it on almost a daily basis, but I am not ready to throw it out. I was very brave and parted with ALL of the clothes in my suitcase that would look absolutely killer....when I lose that ten pounds. But the makeup? Not yet. Maybe one day I'll ditch it. Maybe one day I'll also ditch the ego and hubris that go with thinking that makeup add one whit to the deliciousness of life. But not today.