Man's younger brother moved out today. He was originally living with us, but we made the offer when he was feeling a little bit claustrophobic in Ma & Pa's house. It was never a permanent move, but due in part to his slightly low paying job, he packed up the pick-up and was gone.
Watching him pack reminded me how much I truly LOATHE packing, throwing stuff out, and all that goes along with those things. I am a closet hoarder. While there is no way I would evvvvver let it get as bad as the people on TV, I could totally justify a need for everything I own, even if I haven't touched it in years. I am super empathetic to the plight of the TV hoarders, and Man makes fun of me for crying when they have to give their pets away (um hellllo!?! it's so sad!). That being said, I'm a pretty bad packer. I know it's unrealistic to want to pack all of our crap, but the 'what if i need it' monsters creep in my head and I panic.
We haven't begun the packing process yet, but it's constantly in my mind, oh man!