I am suffering from the packing equivalent of writer’s block (packer’s block?). I’ve dislodged most of my things from their usual places so there’s definitely a feel of packing activity in the air but the things aren’t exactly moving into boxes or suitcases, i.e., no packing is happening. I suppose it doesn’t help that the suitcases are unopened and the boxes haven’t been pulled from storage—with too many things lying around, there’s hardly any space to set up the containers to put them in. In my head I have it all planned out: I should sort my clothes into four piles: 1) clothes to keep in storage (includes clothes I no longer wear but love for sentimental reasons [wtf] and a few formal pieces too bulky to lug around; 2) clothes to give away; 3) clothes to convert into rags (I should clean the apartment as I pack); and 4) clothes to bring—this has two subcategories, 4.1) clothes I won’t wear in the next couple of weeks (i.e., tops with long sleeves and coats) and 4.2) clothes I’ll still wear in the next few weeks (everything else). I should sort my books into five categories: 1) books to entrust to friends for safekeeping (includes poetry books I love but won’t bring and art books too bulky to lug around; 2) books to give to friends (because moving to the other side of the world allegedly teaches detachment); 3) books to donate (see justification for #2); 4) books to store at my parents’ house; and 5) books to bring (the trickiest category—if I had my way, I would bring all my books, but since I have no budget for shipping my books to myself, I need to decide a) which books I love the most [but I love them all!] AND need to be with [because I love reading them again and again, because they help me write, because they inspire me], b) which books I need for research [this entails predictive powers, and since I haven’t been exercising my brain much these days, this is bound to be hit-and-miss], and c) which particular combination of books can best accommodate love/need/research needs without exceeding the weight limit of my luggage. I should send some of my furniture back home to my parents and lend the rest to friends who might find them useful. I should bubble-wrap my dolls and teapots and snuff boxes and pack them away in sturdy containers.
In my head things are in order. Now how make the order move out of my head and into my actual space is the question. The mind seems willing enough, but the body is in denial.