The only thing that makes me feel better about packing away my books is knowing that I’ll eventually get to take them out and grope ’em a bit when I put them all back up again.
The packing has started. Actually, I wouldn’t call it “packing” so much as “let’s empty all the closets into one room and see what we’ve got!” Seriously, I think I may have gone about this all wrong.
Our unused living room is now a landfill full of boxes, an astonishing amount of Christmas decorations and so many knick-knacks from our respective childhoods that I can’t even begin to count how many times I’ve shouted “why do we still have this?!”
The number of boxes set aside to await the move, after just one day, is staggering.