Packing Day

I'm sitting in the midst of dozens and dozens of packing boxes, wondering how we managed to accumulate so much and, more alarming, how much more we have left to do. Following the advice of friends and bloggers, we've fed and watered our crew and I've cranked the A/C down to 72 degrees. This is to (supposedly) ensure good will so that they will do a better job packing. I've also sweetened the deal by distributing our liquor amongst them: Maker's Mark, Cabo Wabo, and generic Vodka. The only caveat is that they don't drink until they're done.

Last night I started shaking in a frantic, palsied sort of way. Didn't stop for and hour or so or, Pat says, until I dropped off to sleep. Must have been in a panic about all this. The fact that we're actually leaving this house, home for 24 years, is really just sinking in. I won't see any of our possessions for, perhaps, a year. That alone is enough to make me dizzy but, as a neighbor said, it's just stuff.