All of that is basically to say that not much has changed in my life in the last couple of months, except for a new piece of paper to hang on the wall and a bit of an empty feeling when I think about campus and all of my favourite haunts.
But once I got a job, I decided that I was going to treat myself and get something practical, but something that I hadn't been willing to fork over for before. And it also helped that my limping set of plastic drawers finally gave in. So I decided, after fruitless searches at Canadian Tire and Walmart and Sears and basically any place that may have sold some drawers, to wander over to the Ikea Canada website and just see what the five drawer Alex unit cost. And then I decided to check on what shipping would be - the nearest Ikea is in Montreal, so shipping on larger things can get ridiculous. But some magical light shone upon me, because with tax and shipping, the drawers were still affordable.
I ordered them, and proceeded to sit by my email till they came. Then I spent a sweaty afternoon with a beer putting them together.
They're great. I get it now. They're the perfect mix of affordable and sturdy and spacious and blandly aesthetically pleasing. Still, a piece of me is a tiny bit grumpy that I've joined the world of beauty gurus and Alex drawers. Even though they look great.
The popularity of these drawers is really astounding, if you think about it, though. They store so much stuff. And I think, with you know, no actual research on my part, that with the trend of having very large beauty collections, these drawers have emerged the darling because of their capacity, affordability, sturdiness, and the ubiquity of Ikea (if you don't live in Atlantic Canada). They fit everything, and in the beauty community, lots of us have or try to have everything.
I'm all elegant and shit now. If you ignore my plastic table and focus on the top of these drawers.
If there's one thing I learned in library school, it's that not everything is collection-worthy. In fact, a lot of things aren't. And furthermore, not everything is in the business of being an archive. Nor should we all try to be. If you want to be, that's great. I do not.
I've been applying that thought process to my own, latest round of ruthless destashing. Try as I might, I've been unable to be as ruthless as I was with the WYs, Because I do have to remember that I am one person, who can't possibly finish off what comes to roughly six litres of perfume oil, give or take (which is a daunting number, yikes!). I have one face. I don't use colours. Even with my weeding guidelines, I find myself deliberating over things, thinking that I might need them or miss them at some point - even though I've stuffed plenty of things in my destash drawer and sold plenty of things and tossed some things and haven't missed any of them.
There is plenty of space still remaining in my drawers, and I'm trying very hard not to fill it up with more stuff, even though I've come to realize that by internet standards, I have a good amount of it but nothing crazy. It's not right for me, though. I need less. I think I've finally learned the lesson of not filling things up just because you can. WIN.
I've talked about destashing a few times now, and I will probably continue - much like my actual destashing process, my thoughts are scattered and rambling. It's an interesting sort of thing: getting rid of stuff, rather than acquire it, though realistically, I do both. I get rid of stuff to get other stuff. However, I am attempting to simply get rid of stuff and not get more to take the place of the old.
The very painful part now, though, is getting rid of things that I like but don't love. If you see me weeping over my stash of Arcana in the near future, that's why.