My life in boxes

So the packing continues. Moving day is only two sleeps away. Deftly side-stepping the obstacle course of boxes in my hallway makes me feel both nimble and nostalgic. Every time I move I make the same pledge to be more ruthless in weeding out the non-essentials, and I think I've done a better job of it this time. Gone are the tealight holders I bought at the dollar store in my second year of undergrad. Gone are the objects that after years of being squished are barely recognizable as pillows. Gone are the masses of tiny decorative boxes filled with spare buttons, safety pins, and (for some reason) ribbon spools. My rat-packiness is astounding. I keep reminding myself, each time I tape another box closed (with that satisfying stretch and slap of packing tape) that in a few days I get to unpack, reorganize, build myself a new space. Make coffee in a new kitchen, curl up amidst a different configuration of furniture, have a backyard. Whee!