Packing madness.

Our house looks downright chaotic right now. I mean, it's really impressive. We have stuff strewn everywhere. Bombshells, twisters, and freshmen college students could be described as neat and orderly in comparison with our upstairs hallway. I'm not joking. For me to make it to the bathroom, for example, I have to dodge the precarious stack of sweatshirts, maneuver around my barricaded closet door, pick my way past the imposing pile for Goodwill, and squeeze through two enormous boxes brimming over with clothes. All this without slipping on the growing mountain of trash.

It's really interesting the things you throw away when its time to move. Yesterday I chucked a massive folder that had housed my elementary school awards for the last 2 decades. Somehow, you just don't quite feel right throwing out such an archive of ancient commemorative stuff, you know? Now granted, no one is ever going to care that I was student of the month in October of my fourth grade, or that I received a certificate for most original poem in Mr. Frank's writing class, but still, my hand hesitated to throw that pile of fading papers away. Lots of fun memories came rushing back to mind, and it was good. Yet just as I was admiring myself for how accomplished and mature I was for ditching all of these petty, insignificant, outdated relics, I broke down when I saw my middle school basketball team picture. I just couldn't part with that photo of the impressively tiny, skinny kid with the comb-over and braces who had a vague resemblance to a beardless me. That portrait got tucked into the trunk right next to my 5th grade report on the Apache indians, which was fully illustrated, I will have you know. Everyone has their weakness, I guess.

The other thing about packing is that you realize you've been keeping some pretty crazy stuff for who knows how long. This can be eye-opening and mind-boggling. I'm giving a stack of clothes to Goodwill that is two feet high. Why the heck do I have two feet of extra clothes? Where in the heck did they come from? Why do I still have a stack of receipts from 2005? And why is that expensive silk tie hiding underneath my muddy workboots? What do I do with a Discman CD player these days? Since when did I think that a fourth pair of jean shorts would be a good idea - like I just couldn't stand having only three to sit unworn in my closet? Why do I literally have nine different types of socks that have no match? Nine! It is baffling to see the bizarre items that are hiding in the cracks and corners of your home.

The most ironic thing about it is that we are going to box up all of these items, cram them into a 16 foot long truck, haul them over 17 hours of interstate, and eventually pull them all out in a reverse sort of mayhem where instead of too much excess, we will be unable to find this or that, we go buy more items, and wish we hadn't sold that extra George Foreman grill. Mayhem. Madness. For the moment, however, these cramped passageways that we used to call "halls" are still mocking us. There is more packing to be done, more package tape to fight with, more trips out to the dumpster, more bubble wrap, more dust bunnies...

...and less time remaining in this good home.