41 sleeps

Packing is a nightmare.

Packing to move from house to house is bad enough, but packing to move from continent to continent is on another level entirely. I have moved continents... [counts]... 6 times so far. This will be my 7th and, knowing me, not likely my last. I've been gathering, packing, sorting and removing this past week. It really is taking some serious discipline to get it done. I open a cupboard, sigh, close it, go have an Angry Nap. I cannot bring myself to get rid of very many books, so I've opted to be ruthless with my wardrobe instead.

What truly amazes me is all the stuff I find. Like, essays I submitted to Constitutional Law in 2002, or the CD collection that has been traveling with me since 1996 (those are some well traveled CDs), or the sunglasses I bought when I was in the Philippines in 1997. It's largely stuff that I forgot I had. Or double stuff... like 2 sets of silverware, or 3 can openers. Conversely, in my day to day life I lose all the important things, like the charger for my Cybershot, or my passport, or my tenuous grasp on reality. But ask me where my copy of The Black Stallion is (that I have owned since I was 7) anytime, anywhere, and I will be able to find it in 3 seconds flat.

I've also started shredding stuff at work. That's great fun. What is this? [picks up folder] Ah! Old draft Agreements! [runs to shredder] Shred! Shred! Shred! [laughs with glee] Whoo hoo! [high fives] *misses*

Oh! I also bought (and wrapped) myself a going away present. I'll put it on the floor where the kist used to be the night before I leave. Then, when I wake up, I can gasp in surprise, mock-shock on my face, and open the present gleefully. It just better not be another book!