The day is quickly approaching when I will be walking out the door of my current humble abode for the last time. Right before I pull the door closed, before I hear the click of the hardware, I will not be saying my usual take good care of you, be safe, I’ll be back soon. Instead, I will be saying good-bye, take care, hope your new person is good to you.

Before I get to that door closing day, I have decisions to make. A goodly number of them to be in-exact. Decisions of what makes the cut of going with me in a box marked with a dark green circled “J” and what goes into a not going with me pile. Because I do not have the majority of My Stuff here at The Pound, formerly known as the Compound, this decision-making process shouldn’t take too much time. Right?

Wrong. It seems that I can make almost any task, big. Long. Wrenching. Boring. Long. and Big. Oh, I already said the last two? I listed them twice. Big and Long. Sorry, my bad.

What’s really bad, and not in the new vernacular meaning good, is the decision making part. What? Yeah, I suppose you’re right. That would be the whole process. Dang it.

Well, I know for sure that my beanie baby, Luke the Black Lab, is sticking with me. And the little foam black and white cow, Bossie. She helped me study for my EPPP, psychologist licensing exam. I squeezed her little cow body a lot while reading and reading. I passed the exam. Bossie is my buddy. A little worse for wear and squeezing but my little bovine buddy, for sure.

And then there are the seashells. Box with dark green circled “J”. Beach rocks? A big no-brainer there. Well they have to stick with their seashell counterparts, right?

Cuts will be made. Boxes with dark green circled “J’s” will go through the door, onto the next abode. The process will happen. We are in the thick of things now. Moving. soon.

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