It never fails. Every time, I tell myself I'll do better next time. I'll give myself more time; I won't wait until the last minute this time. And then I do it again, coming down to the wire. I'll carefully move and arrange a good deal of stuff, and then end up shoveling some stuff into bags.
Moving is good, in some ways. It helps to clarify how important things really are to you. Batteries or shirts? Movies or random electrical power sources? Moving must be a reminder to not get stagnant, to not let the daily detritus build up and overflow. I'm challenged with that.
So, in this, too...sigh...I suppose I'm thankful. Once more, I have stuff I'll have to dig out of bags and arrange into more orderly fashion at some point. Again I have gear stored at a friend's. But I'm decreasing the number of friends and family holding my stuff. I suppose that's a start.
I'm on my way to TX now. The brief flight from Augusta to Atlanta went almost unnoticed as I put in my ear plugs, donned sunglasses, and went out like a light.