Packing is Such Hard Work!

Lt. to Rt. Raisin; Chester; Eggnog--with her feet propped on Teasel; Jemima; and in the rear, Mrs. Beasley.

We have been helping to sort and pack for days.  We have scaled tottering stacks of taped up cartons, popped in and out of empty boxes, shredded paper.  All is disruption. Our TEA was LATE and we had to turn on our most pleading and hungry looks before it was served.

Mrs. B, "You know I spent night before last shut in the new upstairs bathroom---in the cold.  It wasn't my fault that J. didn't see me before he downed his tools and  closed the door.  I've had nightmares and flashbacks ever since.  Just leave me alone!"

Maisie does have a head---tucked under her paws.  She has kept me company through hours of packing quilt fabric.

Charlie has secluded himself in the closet.  Fittingly, he chose to recline on a cat "panel" long ago destined as a pillow cover--which may yet someday happen.

You can't possibly be expecting us to get up and do any more today ??!!

What happened to the warm body that was supporting my feet? 

The sorting and packing--and not enough discarding--continues.  J.'s nephew, also a building contractor, came and relieved him this afternoon of several old job-site work trailers.  We can check those off the list of large items to be removed from the dooryard.

J. started the big diesel motor home [the one left to us after sales of several] and brought it up to the side driveway.  At what point do I begin stashing clothing and such in its chilly depths?

I must admit that most of the STUFF in the house belongs to me!  House plants, books, fabric, a few keepsakes and vintage items, piles of genealogy notes and old photos.  BOOKS!  Did I mention the books in baskets, on shelves, in stacks on the floor, lurking behind chairs?  And then there are the books on shelves and in boxes in the storage shed!

In case I was in doubt, an evening of packing quilt fabric has convinced me I won't need to buy any more in my remaining lifetime! Before the several house showings at the end of January I spent an entire evening sorting all my quilt fabric which had gotten into disarray during the frantic production of two quilts in time for Christmas.  Color coded the stacks, organized my few unfinished projects.  Now it has all been hauled out and reverently stored in boxes and big plastic bins.  I had rather forgotten the craft supplies, miscellaneous fabrics  and patterns lurking on the right hand shelves in the closet.  Charlie the Cat found them and made a nest.

I have to pack the really important belongings first, for at some point both desparation and exhaustion kick in, and I begin heedlessly hurling things into sacks destined for the landfill or the Neat Repeats shop in town.