I packed a box today. (Actually, it was a box of things to sell at a garage sale to raise money for the lovely S's adoption.) It was pretty surreal. It somehow made this move seem more real - and that much more overwhelming!
Our stuff has expanded to fit this giant house. I'm going to have to beat it back with a sword (tape gun?) if there is to be any hope of cramming it into a new house. West Texas is booming right now, what with oil prices and all, so they are quite proud of their real estate. We are definitely going to have to downsize. Which is actually a good thing - less acreage to clean!
I am trying to look at this as an opportunity to clear out the clutter, but pack rat that I am, I am having difficulties. There are five vases in my storage closet. Do I really need all five? No. But they are all different sizes, so who knows when I will need a particular size? Oops! Only four vases. Q was 'helping' me and pushed the closet door onto the vase which met its end on the slate floor. In yet another example of stellar parenting, I bellowed at the kids to GET OUT OF THIS ROOM! while I cleaned up the glass. (My karmic payback was that I totally stabbed myself on a shard and bled like a stuck pig.)
Another illustration of my pack-rat-i-ness: I have several tubs of mangled dog toys waiting for me to repair them. Today I decided that unless it had sentimental value, I would just chuck it. Once I got them all in the trash bag, I was overcome with the wastefulness of it all. I think I'm going to call the pound and see if they could use some beat up dog toys. See? Hopeless.
I hope I have better luck in other areas of the house!