Countdown to Qatar: What to Sell?

The House, for sure.




Over the last few posts, I've been discussing my transition to a new job in Qatar beginning on August 15 (yes, I've got a firm date now).   That transition has forced me to consider what to sell.  This past week, I boxed up most of the family heirlooms and other items for storage.  I've also packed about ten boxes of clothes and other items I plan to ship.

I also spent several hours on the Qatar Ikea website adding furniture, dinnerware, cutlery, lamps, and other items to my shopping cart to decorate my anticipated four-room apartment in The Pearl District of Doha.  The list includes all sleek, modern items in white, light beige, and black.  Here is my new bed.

So most of my "country cottage" furnishings that I enjoy here will not fit this new experience I'm creating. 

Final Close Out Sale!

So, time to sell everything that's left in the house? 

This week, I was confronted with that possibility.  A potential buyer offered on Thursday to buy the house with all the furnishings.  (Still waiting on a contract, but expect that to come some time next week from her or another interested buyer.)  Over the next 24 hours, I considered what I would and would not sell under those terms.  I wandered through each room assessing the furniture, original artwork, and accessories. 

Turns out, I can sell it all except for a metal sculpture my Mom loved that descended through the Drinkwater side of her family. 














I also want to give to my nephew a sewing box my Grandfather Paul Young created for his mother during the Great Depression.  He carved the word "MOTHER" on the top of the box.  Can you imagine someone doing something quite this sweet today?

On the bottom of it, consistent with his love for accounting, he identified how many pieces of wood he had used (1193), the number of nails (2384), and the number of hours it took to construct (95).  It also mention the use of 5 "belt's,"  but I have no idea what that means.  On the sides, he has featured a Christian cross, a lighthouse, and a sunburst. 

It also refers to the NRA (National Recovery Act) and provides the year of its passage (1933).

I also want to pass on to my nephew two handmade duck decoys that Paul Young carved.  They are the survivors of a great flock he had that, when not being used on a lake during duck hunting season, sat on a ledge in his basement in his house located in Virginia, Illinois.  I recall examining many of them as a child.  

In short, this week represented a major step in the process of letting go of the stuff I've accumulated.  In later posts, I'll talk about letting go of "place" and of the friends and colleagues I've grown to love.