Dear readers, you already know how weary  I am of my worldly possessions, which I affectionately call “My Shite.” I long to rise, disentangled and unfettered, from my curated hoard, like a thrift store phoenix. Instead, I have spent the last two weeks sorting, labeling, boxing, and moving My Shite. This goes to the neighbor’s basement for the RV; that goes to Goodwill. This goes in the Pod, while that goes to a friend.  I wake in the morning to find that it has all multiplied overnight, like damp Gremlins.

This exercise is quite a bit different than moving, as my contractor pointed out yesterday. I am simultaneously packaging, cataloging, and saying goodbye to my lot of loot. There will be no opening of boxes and unwrapping of bubble wrap and packaging paper at the other end. Thank heavens my estate sale company is handling that part; they are worth every penny.

I promised myself I would not pen obituaries for all of my belongings, but some items have meant more to me than others, and I am getting some questions about their final destinations. Floyd, the 1956 pink and black Chevy, sold to Art, a 60-something Canadian now living in Bellingham who has always wanted to daily drive a classic car. FiFi, the 1955 Hanson Love Bug Camper’s Delight canned ham trailer, sold to Terry, a fellow Ballardite who lives just 20 blocks from the Atomic Abode. She is readying a space in her backyard for the trailer when it is not out on the open road. Some of the classic mid-century modern pieces have gone to my life-long friend Jamie, whom I met as a college student in Santa Barbara and who now lives in Oregon. Other friends have requested various and sundry smaller pieces with meaning to them – a piece of artwork here, a lamp or coffee table there. The entire Halloween graveyard sold to a family in the neighborhood, who will continue the tradition. It warms my heart to know that these things have good homes and that I can visit them if I want!

Those items, ladies and gentlemen, are literally a drop in the bucket. Mark your calendars for the estate sale occurring the first weekend of June!

I was so happy to wake up this morning with two social items on my agenda which allowed me to escape the daily grind at The Atomic Abode, at least for one day: 1) Rhonda’s birthday lunch in Port Orchard; and 2) Happy hour with Leslie and Helen Anne at the Columbia Tower Club. As I write this I am on the ferry to join my girlfriends for cocktails at the club. Life is sweet.