Have to start a new category here for sure.  The Move.  I got through the past week with a lot of angst and almost no feeling at all, quite numb in fact, and now it is Saturday and I have lists upon lists.  I have already put my massage table on Craigslist and am hoping for the best.  It’s a really nice table and I won’t let it go for nothing. It may end up coming with me.  I’ve got a list of things for the garage sale.  I’ve got a list of stuff to let my sons fight over or more likely, to say “oh no, you take it, bro, I insist.”  I have a list of things to discuss with the family – should we or shouldn’t we?

Here’s what I know: I don’t know anything.  I would think that the Disney DuckTales quilt from the toddler years would be okay to toss, but no.  At least one vote has been cast in a strong “keep it” direction.  If you can sing the Duck Tales theme song you know where he’s coming from.  It was an after school staple.

The boxes of Leggos stay.  I know that intuitively.  Hell they might come in handy if I’m ever recovering from a broken hip and need some entertainment.  And, of course, a woman of certain age who is moving away to a sun-filled retirement prone part of the world can’t help but start thinking about “what the grandchildren might want to play with.”

I have linens upon linens, and since I had to take them all out of the linen closet to have some electrical work done, they are the first to be on trial.  Pretty easy, really.  I will keep one set for every bed in this house and everything else goes.  Unlikely we’re going to have any more overnights that require pulling sheets and blankets out to spread across the floor in front of the TV at 3 a.m.  It’s rather liberating, in a way!  But I have to be careful.  The one part of this whole move thing is that is really easy for me to visualize is “getting rid of everything.”  I have to remember that I sort of have to live here for another six months.  And there will be another life on the other end.  The boxes are coming out and, for instance, if I have to give anyone a gift over the next few months it will be wrapped in a paper bag.  Except Christmas – that will be another monstrous, torturous, emotionally awful decision process.

My sister Pat, who has moved numerous times, laughed heartily when I asked for advice on packing.  Then she got down to business:  one room at a time, mark which room the box came out of and whats in it.  One room at a time, that was the most important.  So I’ve been here in the “guest room” all day, sorting through linens, looking out the window, trying to stay focused.

Then I come across a piece of plastered sheetrock that I had framed when we tore down a wall to put up a different one, because a certain kindergartener had drawn a guardian angel on the wall  above his head.  I’m toast.

My computer iTunes is playing The Beach Boys.  Onward.