You do not need many things

A rumination about a mattress

“I don’t like to own things. I feel freer when I don’t own things.”
— Rei Kawakubo

Until recently, I’ve never had to buy my own mattress.

I’ve spent my adult life in sharehouses, furnished sublets, housesits, or staying with family and friends.

Never having to buy my own mattress—or similar bulky things—meant freedom. I could pack all my belongings into a couple of suitcases, store away some books and miscellaneous things I’m saving for my some-day life, and flit around.

And flit I did. The last few years I’ve decided where to live based on where an affordable—and sometimes free—room was available. Such a go-with-the-flow approach to living arrangements meant I could make the most of a freelance life while travelling frugally.

But it also meant I could only ever really see the next month, or the next few months ahead of me. There were periods when I didn’t yet have the next place lined up, and I expended a lot of energy scrolling through Facebook sublet groups for somewhere to put myself and my suitcases. 

My life was imbued with impermanence—a chunk of time here, a chunk there. I was into a place and then out, never leaving a trace (although, I often like to clean people’s fridges as a parting gift).

Earlier this month, I moved to London and time suddenly has a different cadence. A three-year visa brings a newfound predictability to things, and yet when I was confronted with the notion that I would have to now accumulate certain things, I spiralled.