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.
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.