I am on a mission.

What I love most about moving - (I know, that is an oxymoron.  And coming from my mouth, it's almost blasphemous.) - anyway, what I love most about moving is that my hoarding tendencies become glaringly obvious and as opposed to finding myself on the next episode of Hoarders, I am throwing away 12 of the 13 scribbled pictures that Finn did in January.  I am throwing away a half-eaten box of Girl Scout cookies I found in the back of a cupboard, along with a jar of baby food and some old-ass Halloween candy as well as some recent candy that no one in this house needs to eat.  I am throwing away our home-made play dough; I can make more after the move.  I am donating shoes and shirts and even a jacket that I will never wear again.

I may be living in chaos for the next few days; I may have several more anxiety attacks as to whether or not everything will fit in the moving truck (every time I go into the garage, the piles of boxes has grown exponentially and I'm worried.  It makes my heart beat really fast.), but I have sloughed off a lot of crap in the last few weeks and that feels good.  And whatever doesn't fit?  I'll probably pitch or donate that stuff, too!

At least that's what I keep telling myself.

What I love most about moving - (I know, that is an oxymoron.  And coming from my mouth, it's almost blasphemous.) - anyway, what I love most about moving is that my hoarding tendencies become glaringly obvious and as opposed to finding myself on the next episode of Hoarders, I am throwing away 12 of the 13 scribbled pictures that Finn did in January.  I am throwing away a half-eaten box of Girl Scout cookies I found in the back of a cupboard, along with a jar of baby food and some old-ass Halloween candy as well as some recent candy that no one in this house needs to eat.  I am throwing away our home-made play dough; I can make more after the move.  I am donating shoes and shirts and even a jacket that I will never wear again.

I may be living in chaos for the next few days; I may have several more anxiety attacks as to whether or not everything will fit in the moving truck (every time I go into the garage, the piles of boxes has grown exponentially and I'm worried.  It makes my heart beat really fast.), but I have sloughed off a lot of crap in the last few weeks and that feels good.  And whatever doesn't fit?  I'll probably pitch or donate that stuff, too!

At least that's what I keep telling myself.