A Moving Experience

We have all moved at sometime in our lives, so moving itself is really not blogworthy. The packing, the loading, the fatigue, the items lost in transition from one place to the next are rather blase subjects. For the most part, moves are usually to larger or equally sized spaces. When you downsize, that is when the real moving experience begins.

Who, what, where, and how do you get rid of so much stuff? I mean dining room sets that seat 12, marble table, brass tables, wooden tables, valuable and cheap dressers, plants, pictures, garden tools, just to list a few. These days even the Goodwill is picky and our sanitation company has its standards too. The only reliable source for your cast off possessions is friends, neighbors, relatives, and work associates.

Yet, we still have one room in our condo completely full of memory stuff and a bulging storage closet. At least we squeezed in my rocking chair, my Turkish rug, a brass spittoon, a wooden tennis racket, and my family urn (some ashes of which are left at the old house). Our next downsizing to a single piece of luggage apiece for our 27 months in Samoa should be a piece of cake.