metaphysical europe turns into reality

A few weeks ago the penny dropped that I was to go to Europe for a year. I knew I was going, but I didn't really think it would happen. Something would come up to interrupt the trip in some way, say a heart attack (I went to the doctor, no luck). Interestingly the biggest job wasn't raising the money (considerable) or getting time off work, (they had no problem letting me go, in fact my supervisor signed the form kinda quick??).

The biggest chore is packing up all your belongings.

I started slowly, letting Holly move stuff around, getting rid of a few pairs of socks, recycling a few old magazines. Then it hit me. I have ten years of stuff in my house. A simple Garage sale wasn't going to cut it. I started lending out my tools, I started giving stuff away, I ruthlessly started throwing stuff out. Barely a dent. Thinning out the LPs wasn't going to make any differrence, I needed a new bold strategy, I knew exactly what I had to do... Hide stuff.

I have spent the last four days building a stuff cocoon in the attic. I will report later percentage of stuff that actually fits into it (the hidden stuff quotient). Holly has lined up useless stuff for the attic but right now the priority is my collection of 1966 Chevelle parts. Her stuff may be subject to one of my previous strategies.

Packing is theraputic.
Packing is theraputic.
Packing is theraputic.