Samain                                                                                  Moving Moon

Both of us were up early today. That getting ready to go on a trip feeling, multiplied by a factor of a lot.

Today packers will finish up what we didn’t get done or didn’t intend to get done. Tomorrow, too, if necessary.

This is, for me, a difficult stretch. Lots of strangers, lots of activity in the house, details. Unfinished business that has to get done by a deadline. Yikes.

Samain                                                                           Moving Moon

The last Minnesota business meeting. Our last Saturday here. A week from today Tom and I will be in Colorado, presumably a bit sleepy but with three dogs in their new digs. (pun intended, though I hope the soil is too rocky for much digging.) Kate will be on the road, probably in Colorado around Sterling or Ft. Morgan.

The very last packing is to be done today. Then, preach tomorrow and finish last minute matters here. Packers come Monday. The dogs go to Armstrong’s for one last stretch at doggy camp. When the dog’s leave for four days, the move will be officially underway, not to be finished until the last box has been placed in its respective room the week of Christmas.

Time to get to it.

Samain                                                                              Moving Moon

The sleep deprivation demon has come out to play the last couple of nights. Wake up for any reason and, wham! How will we give water to the dogs on the trip? Have we disclosed everything we need to on the disclosure statement? Where will we get the cashier’s check for the movers? Here or in Colorado. Those last minute meds. Will they show up in time? Just like that your mind is awake and generating a list of things you hadn’t even considered up to that point. How energetic of you, mind.

Again, this seems normal. Feels like waiting for Christmas and Santa. The lights are on, the trees up, the presents are under the tree, but still. We. Have. To. Wait.

Getting closer and closer. We’re under a week today.

Talked with Kate over lunch today and said I don’t feel regret, sadness, nostalgia. Those feelings have come up, had their moment, as long as they needed. It’s nice, because it leaves me free to feel excited, even gleeful. And, I do.

Samain                                                                                    Moving Moon

The scut work. The last stuff to throw out. A bagster is set up in our third garage bay, getting filled with overflow from the shop: old hacksaws, rusted screws, chargers to tools no longer owned, chunks of shelving for units long ago discarded.

Into it also went those old squirrel proof bird feeders. These last had a bar that the weight of the bird landing would not depress, so the bird could feed. A squirrel’s weight on it depressed the bar, closing the feeder. That was the theory. The squirrels would balance on the main part of the bird feeder, stretch out a paw and. Food!

A few red boxes for half-priced books, some stuff for Goodwill, old posters, dishes, a cross given to me by a Presbyterian church after I preached, old fraternity paddles from Kate’s college days. Somebody can pretend they were in Beta Theta Pi.

Decisions now are summary. Yes, that goes in trash. No, we’re going to put that in the trash, too. Trash wins all ties.

There is no joy in these acts; though, as Kate said, once we get the place feeling less cluttered, we’ll feel better. She’s right. It looks right now as if we are living the life of highly organized hoarders. Rows of boxes. Stuff put out for donation or recycling or trash.