58 boxes

We're leaving for the airport in 26 minutes, but I have to share the final moving story.  The take-home is that most of my earthly possessions now fit into 58 labeled plastic bins.  They are in my mom's basement along with our two dressers, a bathroom cabinet, some tools and an induction cooktop.

Packing our house was a giant pain in the butt.  Since we knew back in December that we were moving April 1, we started early.  Which was a necessity since we needed to decide what to sell and donate, but a huge complicating factor.  At every turn, I had to decide:
1.  Do I keep this, sell it, donate it?
2.  If keeping, do I store it now or later?
3.  Is it potentially going to France?

For every stinkin' item.  Cheese shredder: keeping, storing now in box to go to Mom's.  Wine opener: keeping, using now, storing at Mom's later.  Salad spinner: selling and making jokes about for weeks.

Just use your imagine and you'll know how much of a pain this is.  How much lotion do you need for three months in the U.S., two weeks in Costa Rica and then three months in France?  Dental floss?  Razor blades?  On and on.  Allergy medicine was easy.

In the end, it all fit, it's all packed and we're ready to go.  But if I ever have to do a three-stage packing process like this again, I'm just going to lob a grenade at my crap and take the insurance check.

Bombs away!