Moving is such sweet pain...

It had to happen, I suppose. After nearly 10 years in one location (a record exceeded only by the years spent in my parents house, growing up), we had to move. Now, unlike some moves I've made, with thousands of miles between locations, this one was a matter of just under 10 miles by road -- even shorter, as the crow files, but he doesn't carry much -- so we were seduced by the attraction of doing the move ourselves. And so we did, lock stock, and all the rest of the junk implied by 10 years in one spot.

My step-daughter was seemingly tireless throughout the move. She sorted, packed, and cleaned, making the whole adventure much less painful than it might have been. My wife, working full-time, was excused from some parts of the venture, but after a full day's work, each day spent a few hours more, on some aspect or other of the project. For my part, I lost sight of the number of trips made between old and new....

And despite shedding a great deal of valuable stuff (not nearly so valuable, of course, and clearly less so than the effort needed to move it again), the space available in the garage at the new place was dwindling at an alarming rate. So, once the brutal process of transport was complete, we undertook to shed still more, making great use of the blue bin -- it is in the nature of my work to accumulate literal tons of technical literature, none of which has much apparent value until it is discarded -- finally letting go of many volumes that have not recently demonstrated their value.

The good news is that the collection of boxed goods in the garage is shrinking; the bad news is that my office looks as though we'd had a major quake. But progress is being made, despite appearances, and hope springs eternal -- I may yet recover.

But next time -- and yes, I know there will be a next time -- I will be more likely to hire movers.