Sunday, February 27, 2022
One week into packing, it feels like I'm about one percent packed. Three carloads of stuff have gone to Goodwill, 12 jumbo cans dumped into the dumpster, and 1½ boxes are packed. Obviously, my intent is to travel light.
• The living room is where I started dismantling things. That's where most of my artifacts of Stephanie were, in a big set of shelves holding most of her possessions and a million memories. Picking up anything got me thinking, remembering, maybe crying, which slowed down the work. The shelves are empty now, like my life, so the other rooms might go faster.
• I don't want to disappoint myself by missing the target date, so there's still no target date for moving. My estimate is that I'll have a target date by late-March.
• Sadly, it wouldn't be wise to bring my cat. She's (sometimes literally) a basket case — abused by her previous people, it took a year before she'd let me touch her, and now she refuses to enter the living room because it looks different. She might not survive 3-4 days yowling in a car, followed by who knows how long in a kennel while I'm looking for a job and a place to live, and then what — another year hiding in fear in a new apartment? Nah, it's better for her if she stays.
No worries about the beast, though — she's not going to the pound. She was a rescue cat from a no-kill shelter, and they'll take her back.
• OK, here's another box for Goodwill. See you soon...