I have decided that moving house is, amongst other things, an exercise in determining how much you like your possessions.
Do I like this lamp? Yes.
Do I like this lamp enough to wrap it in paper, put it in a box, lift it into a truck, lug it into the new condo, remove from box, unwrap from paper, clean and find a spot for it? No.
I have also discovered that the idea of moving food is really unappealing. This has lead to dinners that have included pickles as a side dish.
Have a story about moving that you would like to share? Tell, tell! It’s all I think about, and subsequently all I am writing about for the next few weeks. Consider this your warning.