I thought I had just about everything packed, but stuff kept spilling out of it. Old art boards with layouts from the website we launched eight years ago. Photographs from holiday parties long past. A 2005 calendar with cool pictures. A dozen old magnets stuck on the side of a cabinet and forgotten. A smattering of paper clips and push pins. Bobblehead dolls that were giveaways from some long-forgotten sporting event. Pictures of my son going back to babyhood. Matchbox cars (including, I am proud to say, the Monkee-mobile and the Partridge Family bus). And so much more.
It was moving day. And a moving day. I bade a fond farewell to the space I'd occupied for many years.
Over the course of the last week or so, I'd been sorting through my files. Some I shredded, others just pitched. And kept the ones I absolutely had to.
Then there were the catalogs and direct mail samples I've been collecting since 1990. Fortunately, I was able to store those temporarily in a file drawer in my old neighborhood until big file cabinets can be moved over.
Our new area has a lot less room for storage. This is actually a good thing, at least for me, because I tend to fill the space where I work. The more room I have, the more crap I accumulate.
Thinking back on this past week makes me wonder about our house and what's going to happen when we move. My original idea sounds better and better all the time: Tell the new owners that everything in the house is theirs, take only the personal items that can't be replaced, and start over again in the new abode.
The ability to look up and see the outside world is great for maintaining perspective.
And my plants will be happy, too.
Now all I have to do is unpack on Monday morning.
Time to start up the clown car!
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