The van is almost complete. I think. It's clear, though, that my stuff needs more trimming.
How many pairs of socks do I really need?
What about the box of art supplies?
One seven-gallon water jug instead of two?
What's on these hard drives? Does not remembering mean there's actually nothing all that important on them? I need to check.
Nearly every shirt I've worn the past six weeks is now permanently stained with something or other. Do I keep some of them for when I need to do dirty work in the future? Or do I just toss them to lighten the load?
Tools. Wrenches (metric and SAE), pliers, screwdrivers, drill bits, clamps. A sledge hammer? Well, something might need to be pounded. Hard. Can I consolidate it into one tool box instead of three? Oh, wait, there's the electrical stuff, too.
Meanwhile, more things are on the way. A small folding table. A cell phone antenna. A wifi booster. Caulk.
I look back at this transitional life, living out of a 6x12 trailer in a friend's back yard, and think about what material things I've actually used—other than tools to outfit the van. Not much. Changes of clothes. Grooming needs. Bedding. Laptop...
I used to be proud that I could leave the house with just my wallet, keys and phone. I used to shake my head at all the stuff I had that was just taking up space. So why now do I worry that I might not have enough things? Because there's no home base? No anchor? Yeah, probably.