I knew blogging would become a form of procrastination.

I should not be sitting here.  I really, really, REALLY should not be sitting here. 

We are putting our house on the market in one week.  We only decided to do so 5 days ago, when the offer we made on another house was accepted.  We're off to the home inspection soon, and we fully expect to proceed with the purchase.

And we have eleven years worth of stuff to deal with.  Those PoS from earlier posts?  Those were gentle waves on a summer day.  The rest of the house is a tsunami.

But I work well under pressure.  Extremely well.  In fact, I'm sort of addicted to the adrenaline rush of meeting a deadline.  Forced choice is an amazing motivator.  I do not have time to carefully sort through all the boxes in the attic that I had thought I would someday.   My choice is pay movers to take it or throw it out/recycle.  And since I hate to pay money for something I'm not confident I need, I'm tossing and recycling and arranging donations.  (Big Brothers/Big Sisters and GotBooks both pick up at the house.  I love those people.  But they are going to hate me when they see the size of the donations.)

The recycling and trash collectors are going to hate me, too.

But my spirit is light and I'm determined to enter our new house bringing only what will serve us in this new phase of life.  I'm letting go of the person I was 15 years ago when I had different passions, a different career, and different goals.  An thus I can let go of the stuff. 

It helps that I'm so freaking exhausted and feel more sleep deprived than I did in those early weeks with a newborn.  Why does that help?  Because I just don't give a rat's ass about pots and pans and knickknacks and old books---it's all going away.  Maybe someday I'll regret not having more than 1 flower vase or 27 coffee mugs.  But I am determined not to, because the desire to be free is strong enough to counter any regret. 

So I really shouldn't be sitting here.  Back to packing and cleaning out.