I will not have a panic attack. Really...

The movers are here. Big, strong, efficient and with good senses of humor. Same ones I used last time, but only for the furniture. I can get the small stuff by myself. Really, I can. And no matter what next piece they remove from the house, I'm looking around at all that's left, and it seems I have a bit of trouble breathing. It's too much. I have a lot of stuff. And I have stuff most people would likely throw away. Likely, my butt. They would most certainly throw it away. I know this because they tell me so.

But you know creative types. They keep everything because inevitably they'll make something out of it, or give it to another creative type who will in turn make something out of it.

Today I'm kinda' wishing I were one of those other types of people. The type of person who keeps only a minimum of possessions. If it's vital, they own it. If not, they never remember even seeing it.

After this part is all behind me and my parents come back over here to get Kenya and pack her up to leave (another reason I'm feeling overwhelmed. I love my kitty so much. I'm just plain gonna' miss her. I know it's not forever, I know this. But still...) then I can make some sense of this. Maybe. I need more boxes, though, and maybe that'll help me feel I can do this more efficiently.

There are a lot of maybes here. But I keep remembering the phrase "this too shall pass." And so I know it shall. Even if I don't really feel it yet.