Aspirations

The best fiction I've written in years came via a text to Tessa: The house will be ready to put on the market next week. 

It looks much better now. Sorta. 

After a full day of sorting, tossing, and packing the mess above doesn't exist any more. Kinda. It is now shoved into boxes, trash bags and donation bins. 

When we left Mesa, 4 and a half years ago, we had five weeks to make the move. The house never hit the real estate market. We were all working. Plus, I was driving about 90 miles round trip about five days a week to take care of my father. And yet, we managed to sort, toss and pack. But I don't remember how. 

We have less stuff now. But we have less storage and so it's all over the place. 

As of today, the majority of the master bedroom is cleared out. There's still a bit in my closet to go. My big dresser can be taken to our Ubox on Buck's next day off. My desk is already there. Polly cleaned out her room as well. We have major furniture to move and the kitchen to sort through. That's most of what's left. However, it feels daunting.  

Today I also sent a group text to the Coronas, telling them the house is going on the market next week and the intention is to move to Florida. I got the sweetest messages in return. And maybe if I wasn't crying through all that, I'd have the energy to finish packing my closet. Tomorrow I'm just turning off my phone.