Still, there's something to the feelings about the packing that i think are independent of chemistry.
I packed a great deal of NC pottery today, and my mind oscillates between "too much stuff" to my delight in the handicraft of my home state. (I suppose it is an adopted home state, since i wasn't born there.) Then there's the sense of how stuff has been crammed into corners and places away from where it could be enjoyed. We've been living so tight for so long, i think i'm feeling some regret about the years of being packed in. Will there be a way to enjoy all the stuff in the new home? Christine and i were talking about the CD collection (now just under 300 shelf inches) and how it's compact storage has meant that it wasn't browsable -- and so we haven't enjoyed it (except for the occasional forays into ripping CDs). We purged it today, so Christine will have 1.5 cubic feet of CDs to take to the used music store.
I'll feel better tomorrow. The guilt about owning stuff i don't take care of may ebb. The regrets of living the way we have for so long may ebb too. The worry that we won't take care of this investment we are making may linger. Am i a grown up yet and am i able to have grown up things, like a house?
It's a lovely evening here. Creamy gold wispy clouds are in the blue sky, and a hummingbird visited many of the flowers on the deck. The nasturtium, sage, and scented geraniums all seemed to delight it.