Last night I worked until three in the morning helping my friends pack for their upcoming move, then came home and went for a mile-and-a-half run. It’s weird how you can be absolutely exhausted and still feel like you’ve got to burn off some energy. Anyway, I went to bed about four-thirty, slept for four hours, then woke up to meet my friends at ten. (The movers came this morning to evaluate our progress, since the big “load up” is later this week.) And whereas the movers said we packed the dishes wrong (we stacked them like you would in a cabinet , on their bottoms, instead of on their apparently sturdier sides), they said we pretty much had it licked and that they could prepare the rest (furniture, lamps, etc.) on the day of the move.

Phew.

Running strictly on willpower and caffeine, my friends and I spent the rest of the morning and all afternoon finishing up. As we’ve been working in their bedroom and therefore dealing with their personal things, I’ve spent most the day looking under and behind furniture for lost whatevers, taking items to be donated, and hauling trash to the dump. (I snagged the sweet red bandana in today’s selfie from the giveaway pile.) This really is a fascinating gig, seeing what people choose to hang on to and choose to let go of. One man’s trash is another man’s treasure and all that. Of course, having been through this process, I get it. Possessions are personal.

Until they’re not anymore.

By far, the SWEETEST thing I’ve come across in over two weeks of helping my friends pack, I found this morning. Check it out. It’s an honest-to-god Jazzercise record that promises to condition your body, lift your spirits, and put a smile on your face and a bounce in your step!–pretty much everything except send you to heaven. Plus, it says it’s a “wild and woolly” workout. Talk about exciting!

That being said, “woolly” and workout are two words I would never use together if I were trying to promise someone a good time. But then again, I’m not into bears. (Extremely hairy gay men are called “bears,” Mom. Slightly hair gay men–now that we’re talking about it–are called “otters.”)

“The more you know.”

Now it’s nine in the evening, and I’m barely holding my head up. I’m still at my friends’ house working, although I’ve obviously taken a break to blog. I know I’ve been saying it for the last week, but we really are almost done. I think all that’s left to pack is their toiletries (probably not a job for me), then all the tape, tape guns, and magic markers we’ve been using TO pack and label everything.

(Oh shit–I just realized–however will we seal up and label THAT box!?)

For me, today has been bittersweet. On one hand, I’m happy this huge project is coming to a close. It’s been tough stuff, and my body is tired. But on the other hand, it’s been good–fun–working and being around my friends. Having spent most of my adult life working alone, I’ve really enjoyed laughing “on the job” and eating lunches WITH other people. Mostly, I’m simply grateful. These friends of mine started off as dance students. Some random day they wandered into my studio, and we’ve been in and out of each others’ lives ever since. I don’t know. I guess a part of me wants to hang on. But, of course, people and possessions have this one thing in common–

You can’t hang on to them forever.