As many of you are aware, I'm in the process of moving again. I am already tired of it. I have sudden sympathy for military families and those of professional athletes who must move constantly.
I'm also realizing how much crap I have. Last week, I took five kitchen-sized garbage bags of clothes to the local consignment store. I have another bag of goodies to go there this week. Included in the collection is my caboodle. Seriously. I can't be the only one who still has one of these?
Or maybe I am. I didn't even know what was in it (mostly jewelry from my middle school and high school years) until I opened it. Yikes.
I now know how hoarders get their start.
I'm also taking two grocery bags of books to the library. Friends of the Library can sell them at their next book sale.
The stuff I'm not throwing out, I'm packing up. The good thing about working at a newspaper is plenty of sturdy boxes. My co-worker saved about 15 for me, and they're already filled up. My dad also brought me some boxes and plastic tubs. I've quickly filled those as well. They're stacked in my second bedroom as well as in my laundry room and garage.
How on earth did I collect so much crap?!?! It's apparent in this picture that even Cleo is annoyed with the number of boxes. And why shouldn't she be?
I've made remarkable progress in packing, but I still feel like there's so much to do. And so little time in which to do it. My parents will be here Saturday morning with a truck. Between now and then, I have three days of work as well as a concert one evening and two evenings of farewell festivities.
And by this time next week, I will be sitting in my new (albeit temporary) home. Most of my things will remain packed so I can move again in a few weeks. Hopefully for the last time in a few years.
Have I mentioned how much I dislike packing and moving?
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