Let's Go, Jane!

July marks my last month in this apartment. My last month with a permanent address, for that matter. I’ve spent the last week selling possessions, and I have to tell you, it’s totally addictive. It would have been better not to have acquired all this stuff in the first place, but selling it off is the next best thing!

I’ve been using Facebook Marketplace for the apartment liquidation process. The pattern goes like this: I take a picture of an item and upload it to Chad (my AI accomplice) who writes a pitch and suggests a price. I post it on Facebook and immediately get a bunch of random comments from bots or scammers on my cover photo (the only part of my profile that’s public, apparently). Then I get flooded with “Is this still available?” messages and some insultingly low offers. Eventually a real person makes a real offer to purchase the item, we make arrangements, and I collect the cash. Rinse and repeat.

My apartment is half furnished, and instead of feeling unsettled, I feel buoyant. Like a weight is slowly lifting and I might soon float into the sky. My social worker sister and I joke about being “hypomanic, but without impairment.” I’m ridiculously happy these days.

My 17-year-old who lives with me is being a really good sport about everything. I sold the television, but we are using a projector and fire stick to make the empty living room into a makeshift movie theater. The whole wall is a television! I sold the table and chairs, but we still have the couch and coffee table. I sold his dresser, then I promised him I’d wait until the second half of the month to sell anything else in his room. I sold the knife block, but we still have two steak knives. “How do I cut this fresh dill?” he asks. Just use scissors, I told him. We are camping in our own home.

The only misfire was my bed. Some jerk named Simon made arrangements to pick it up on July 1st as he moved into a new apartment. He was a no show, and didn’t respond to my messages. It’s okay. I sold the mattress to someone else and made myself a makeshift bed with a mattress topper.

Most of the items I’ve sold are things I purchased just two years ago, but there are a few exceptions. The stand mixer has moved with me from place to place since I was in my 20s. The woman who bought it was over the moon. “Yellow is my favorite color!” she said. It was a strange feeling to see her walk away with something I’ve owned for almost 30 years. 

As I look at the items I brought with me from my old life, I remember making the decision to keep them. The roasting pan. The vase that was a wedding present. They have served me well, but it’s time for them to go live with someone else. By the end of this month, my worldly possessions will fit in a backpack and a few dusty bins in my sister’s basement. I’ll gladly trade things for experiences as I set off into the world, lighter than I’ve ever been.

P.S. Big news! My first book Van Life After 50 is officially out in the world. If you’ve ever dreamed of downsizing, traveling more, or hitting the road after 50—this one’s for you. You can check it out here.