It's been really busy. I've been packing, and getting rid of stuff, and packing some more, and uncovering other things that I should just get rid of because I have not used them, and packing. . .
I got home last night after working a little late and I was so tuckered out that I didn't get all that much done. According to the guy from the moving company, I don't have a lot of stuff to pack up but I feel like a hoarder right now. He didn't think it would be that onerous when he came to give me an estimate.
I gave a lot of books to my church for their book sale (part of the church fair). I also gave them some champagne glasses I bought years ago and that I've used maybe three or four times.
There are things that I don't need but that I'm holding on to because of sentimental value, and I do make a point to use them because of that. But I still have some things that I'll be happy to be rid of. The rest of the stuff will go into boxes, and a lot of those boxes will stay sealed and stored for the next six months or so while I look for a new place to buy. I can get by on very little for six months. Honestly, I got by on very little for longer than that, so. .
(Okay, Ma, if you're reading this I am not going to live like a monk, I promise. I just hate unpacking just to pack things up again.)
I know I'm making the right move but I'm still a little melancholy about this. I lived here for 13 years, and I have friends here and family close by. This is actually the first time I've been sad about a move--I've left the country before quite blithely and came back to the US quite blithely and never had second thoughts. I will be much more well rested, certainly, since I'll get home from work before six o'clock. I got home after seven last night.
I'll be glad when I'm moved into my new place and the closing on my condo is done.