And being only at Step 11, there isn't a waking moment when I shouldn't be doing something obsessively productive. I suspect it's difficult to elicit any sympathy from my readers when, after all, we're moving to the beach. But each day, this is hard, getting harder, and not that much fun. The move? That's a big-picture goal, hardly the heave-ho, mundane reality.
Of course, the experience of it was . . . somewhat different.
Today I culled through more paperwork. I said goodbye to dozens of photos of Baby Jill, all my I'm-gonna-write-a-book-about-the-Rudy-Kos-case papers, calendars from my Peace Corps days (this was as tough as the puppy pix of Jill), and bank statements and tax records older than three years. It's cold in Texas today, so I added them to the fireplace. Take no prisoners!
In the kitchen I've packed tart pans of various size and composition, loaf and cake pans, ramekins, and pie plates, plural! I had the sense to place the angel cake pan into the garage sale area . . . but only then did it occur to me: when was the last time I needed three loaf pans at the same time? Ah, but one is silicon, and you know there's nothing like baking in silicon. I think it's time to play roughing-it and let go . . . well, perhaps one or two roasting/baking pans. Step back in time to Africa a few years ago. Let's play I Spy . . .
I spy an African 3-burner stove, a salt mill, a pepper mill, a marble mortar & pestle, silicon pot holders, a vegetable peeler, a small scoop/disher, good knives and sharpener, whisks, and a spice collection that would shame most U.S. homes. I see one of my saucepans hanging to the left of a window (the other hangs to the right). There are four plates, six or eight Irish linen embroidered cocktail napkins, a large basin filled with odds-n-ends, a couple of large strainers, a blue trash bag, a cutting mat. This is my proof: we need not do without . . . but maybe we can do without three of the same item.
It's time to go back through boxes with a take no prisoners approach. If it's heavy, it needs close scrutiny -- I've still got a KitchenAid to pack. If I don't ever use it here, I'll buy one if ever needed in Samara. No mercy! OK, needing to re-sort some boxes, I'm now back on Step 7.5. I'm tired merely thinking about this. Perhaps a nappy-nap is in order. Lo que hay.