Oh No, You Can't Take That Away From Me...

I have thrown away an incredible amount of trash this week. There are heaping piles of stuff in our living room, all sorted and ready for our giant neighborhood yard sale this Saturday. My day consists of going from room to room and collecting items for the purge. Sometimes I have to dig deep, but most of it is obvious.

For years, we have harbored a largish collection of audio tapes that are locked away in cases and stashed behind the couch. A few nights ago, Rob and I agreed it was time to let them go. We rarely even open the cases. But when I finally got them out yesterday, I couldn't do it. I sorted and pruned and reduced from 3 cases to 2, but I couldn't throw our music out.


How can you throw part of your own soul away? How could you sell a piece of your personality to strangers? Here are just a few of the millions of memories linked to this box of cassette tapes:

• saving my 7th grade babysitting money to buy "Yaz" and "Book of Love" at Spanky's Records & Tapes: my first music purchase ever.
• Play. pause. rewind. play. pause: this is how we got the lyrics to our favorite songs--listening intently and writing them down. None of this internet search stuff.
• the day Rob showed up at my dorm with his entire dual-recording stereo system loaded into a huge Jansport pack. We made our first (and only) mix tape. I still love it (and him).
• making tapes for Rob while he was on his mission, and listening to his voice while he was so far away.
• Being introduced to "The Clash" by my Uncle Bob and Aunt Andrea. British punk rock was a revelation to me.
• going to a Depeche Mode concert (what were my parents thinking?!)

Oh yes, we're keeping these babies.

Where, oh where has my little brain gone?

Seems like I'm hard pressed to even know what day it is...I'm going to try hard not to turn this into a blog about how stressful/hard/depressing it is to move, but you've got to know it is these thoughts that weigh heavily on my mind ALL THE TIME.

Since huge amounts of brain and muscle power are now dedicated to cleaning/packing/getting the house ready to sell, I find it difficult to make even small decisions about birthday parties, weekend plans, what to have for dinner.

Last night I purposely invited a friend over for dinner so I'd be forced to come up with something more exciting than grilled cheese or cold cereal. Then I had to call another friend mid-dinner prep because I couldn't remember what to add to our pesto pasta. (Peas: yes. Ham: no. Thank you Karen!)

I fantasize about a kind, fun, wonderful and rich family who will knock on our door and offer to buy our house before it even goes on the market. Seriously, I would love them forever.

Amid all the chaos, though, I have small peaceful moments where I feel like I get just a small heavenly pat on the back and a whispered, "You will be okay. You can do this." Those moments keep me going. I had a big one on Saturday, running an 8k race with my friend, Kim. It was a great race, I made good time, and it was the first race where I really felt like a true runner. (After 3 years...finally!) But I was truly, fully happy for about 15 minutes (before it got hard) and I was grateful for that.