Get depressed, Crawfordsville! We're shipping out three weeks from today. Matt is only working this weekend and the next, and the rest of our time is spent reading, doing stuff with and to and for the baby, walking, doing our usual thang. We're also, of course, leisurely sorting through our stuff and deciding what stays here in Indiana, what gets pitched or passed on, and what we will pack into a very small trailer and a Toyota Corolla and take with us to DC.
How many more times will we have to do this sorting and paring and parting before we only have what we want and need? It's taken me five years to throw out photos of an ex-boyfriend. I didn't need or want those pictures in the slightest but somehow they've stuck to me through four or five moves, because I just couldn't bring myself to go through the mess. I don't know if it was laziness, indecision, or fear of the memories (nothing scary, just embarrassing!) that prevented me from doing it before, but I just tossed them, and it wasn't that bad. Now the old diaries, those are a tough call. There's a lot of stuff in there that makes me blush but there are also some observations and attitudes of personal archaeological significance, as well as notes for essays. I think I will be able to stomach the embarrassing stuff in the future, but in the mean time, I'd better put some kind of curse on the diaries.
I guess if we were more organized, we wouldn't have to do all this sorting all the time. Organization means you sort things as they come to you and they STAY sorted. We could just pick up the folders called Old W-2s that we might need some day, Paper icons that we can't throw away and Embarrassing old stuff and off we'd be. Maybe now that we are moving into a tiny apartment with a baby, we should start doing that kind of thing.