First. Aren’t you impressed that I said “stuff” instead of “shit”? I am mysteriously pleased and surprised.

Packing up 25+ years of life is an adventure.  And I’ve just brushed the surface. 

When I moved up here from Los Angeles, I had one U-Haul full of stuff.  I estimate that this was around 60 or so banker boxes worth of stuff; plus some furniture. 

Now I have almost a full box of cat ashes.  I was tempted to label the box as “Dead Cats” but I figure I shouldn’t intentionally try to freak out the movers.  

Right?

I have to keep my cat ashes.  When I die, I want all of their ashes mixed in with mine. 

Now, I have to box up a bunch of Barbies!

And you don’t even want to know how many boxes full of supplies for my Dikke Dame Dolls I have; or my other crafts – felting; crocheting; knitting; sewing and doll patterns; etc., etc., etc.

And I keep making runs to Good Will with lots of craft supplies and books.  Lots and lots.

Haven’t even made a dent in my sheet music collection or CDs or books I’m keeping. 

And then there are my clothes.  Have I ever mentioned my obsession with clothes?  And I mean, these are all nice clothes that fit me.  I don’t keep clothes that I don’t like and/or don’t’ fit me.  I just have mounds and mounds of clothes. So if you’re looking for me – I’m behind this big pile of boxes.  Just follow the sound of the application of massive amounts of packing tape.