Moving is hell!
Why is it when you think you've boxed the last thing, there's always just one more? I can't believe the number of things I'm either donating or that I've trashed and *still* I have more stuff!
No really. I'm on a mission to reduce the number of things I own as much as possible. I've realized that nothing weighs me down like stuff. I feel responsible for the plethora of items that make up the said "stuff" and I don't want to throw them away because (a) I think they're valuable and my inner greedy voice kicks in ("Oh, yes, my preccciousss!") or (b) it has some special memories attached. At the end of the day, though, I've found that all stuff does is tie me down. So, during this move, I made a conscious effort to get rid of as many things as I could. I don't think I did badly, either, judging by the garden-full of stuff that the trash removal people took away this morning or the the pile of bags of clothes, books, computer equipment, etc. that will be making their way to Oxfam this morning. But, hey, there's always room for improvement!
Once I get a chance to take the data off of my various computers, I'm going to reduce that number down to one. Why do I need more than one computer, really? (I had about fourteen at one point and now I've reduced that down to a much more manageable four). Since my Mac can run pretty much any operating system, I don't have the "it's for testing" rationalization to fall back on either.