I started to get nervous about my approaching move deadline, so went through still more memorabilia, the never-ending task. I threw away an enormous amount, as I'm determined to allow myself only one large container for all of it; whether I'll achieve that goal, I don't know.
Was interrupted for the best possible reason: a call from my NM friend. She and hubby are still in Arizona, having traveled to Tuscon, where they met up with a former colleague of hers from the occupational therapy field. That person must be the same kind of glutton for punishment as they are: They all ran, hiked, climbed, and otherwise punished themselves during their stay. They're head back to New Mexico next week.
Went to Goodwill to ask if I could rent one of their lightweight, two-tiered carts, which would be perfect for moving my stuff to the other apartment. The manager was very cordial, but regretfully said he really couldn't allow it and I understood. On the way home, I stopped at an open house at a modular home park. I'm in the habit of thinking of these as trailer parks where druggies hang out, but boy, have things changed. This was brand new and as spacious as any regular house--large, beautiful kitchen, a powder room and two full baths (with walk-in showers and tubs), big closets and so on. However, the price reflected it; probably fifty grand more than I could get for my house and space rent of $740. Boggles the mind.
Ellen had asked me to call her today and I'm going to see if she'll load up her car--I'll do the same--and take it to the thrift store. After that, I'll generously buy her lunch. (Heh, heh, I have a coupon for a pasta place.)