I still hate packing

I'm getting down to the last gasps, running out of boxes and long since run out of patience. What is all this crap!??!

Goodwill has gotten significant benefit from this move, believe me. Tons of clothes I'll never wear, glassware, furniture . . . and I found a beautiful dress shirt in the closet that I didn't know I owned. Score one for the closet.

What is freaking me out now, as I write this, is the knowledge that 48 hours from now I'll be ass deep in crumpled newspaper and broken-down cardboard boxes while I unpack everything I've so laboriously wrapped and stuffed and taped and heaved. I don't think I'll be wondering too much about "why the hell did I keep this?" because I've been fairly brutal in winnowing out the unwanted and unneeded. And there should be a lot more room for putting things away--more cupboards, more closet space, and simply more room. I'll be able to walk around my bed and tuck in the sheets on the far side!

It will be worth all the trouble, I know. But from right here and right now it seems like a long way off.