I've been on a packing spree. We are all but completely packed. I've had some moments. I got misty going through my books and choosing which will go with me and which will be stored. I have never been separated from them. Having all of them with me, and easily accessible on some shelf, is something I have always taken for granted.

Making a three bedroom house life fit into a Manhattan studio is tricky. What can we do without? What do I have room to bring that will help me feel like I still have my home, and my previous life, with me? Packing away your life is an emotional roller coaster ride. Moving from a home to an apartment feels like a step backwards. It won't really be my home, just some place I am staying. I remember the day my husband and I moved into our house 8 years ago. For the first time since leaving home for college, I was really home again.

There is something, though, that actually feels good about the whole process. I have learned how little we actually need in order to live. We are streamlining. I have learned, not surprisingly, that we have way too much CRAP. Where did we get all this shit? Why did we buy that stupid thing? What was I thinking dragging home all the fixer-upper furniture/knick knack junk that sits in the basement and the garage, that I actually paid money for? I am about to throw in a dumpster no less than 20 'projects.' The more room you have, the more stuff you buy--you start down that road and you don't stop--a personal indoor suburban sprawl, so to speak.

You can easily live with less than half of whatever you have right now.