I am not sure what has possessed me to move so much recently. The moment I get settled in somewhere and I'm finally able to exhale, a little voice whispers, "Don't get too comfortable" and I am compelled to start packing again.

It's just strange that only a few years ago I was focused on the urge to merge and now I seem to be obsessed with the urge to purge.

The mantra that keeps running through my brain is "Get mobile," so I have been highly motivated to pare down my belongings, and yet in spite of this continual process, I still seem to have a lot.

However I am now basically furniture-free and at the moment I am home-free as well. I'm traveling. It's liberating. And I am indeed mobile...well, kind of. I put whatever I had left in storage.

One day when I was in the elevator hauling some of my things up to my storage unit, something horribly unexpected happened. The site manager was with me and we both watched in total disbelief as if, in slow motion, my keys seemed to be sucked out of my hands and down a very narrow opening, vanishing into the black hole of the elevator shaft.

"This has never happened before," the manager said, as he stood there staring down the inch-and-a-half opening. Great, I thought. I really needed to hear this.

We tried for hours, sticking coat hangers down the shaft into the dust, hoping that a miracle would happen, but we couldn't even see the keys. I was sure they had gone into another dimension – the one where my little voice lives.

In the meantime, a man saw us struggling and climbed up on a ladder and was reaching around above the elevator car in hopes that somehow the keys had been caught during their descent from the second floor. In the process, he shorted the elevator and we could no longer open the door. We finally gave up and called the elevator man.

I was trying to stay calm. I was anything but mobile. In fact, I was totally immobile. I couldn't keep unloading my car because it was locked. I couldn't go have lunch and kill time until the elevator man arrived because my purse and wallet were in my car. So I waited and waited and ended up wanting to kill the elevator man instead of the time I couldn't kill, but ended up shocking him (and myself) by throwing my arms around him and hugging him hard after he got the stuck elevator car moving again and gallantly retrieved my keys from the parallel universe below.

The whole time this was happening, I was getting the lesson loud and clear and the mantra started repeating..."Get mobile."

I could somehow hear my little voice clearing its throat. Ok, I get it, I get it. If I didn't have so much stuff, I wouldn't need a storage unit. And if I didn't have a storage unit, I wouldn't have lost my keys and been quite literally...shafted while unloading the Matrix. Needless to say, when I got home, I gave more things away.

The person who helped me move into my storage unit is from Mexico and he explained to me that storage facilities don't exist there. Only in America, it seems – the land of accumulation. But because of my temporary home-free situation, I was able to justify it.

Funny, but I ended up giving a ton of things to the person from Mexico and his wife, who now might have more stuff than I do. But I myself am lighter and a whole lot closer to getting mobile.

I found out that my little voice speaks Spanish too.

"Vamanos!"

Meet Robyn