The garage sales are over, and trips to take items to Goodwill and the county recycling center have finally slowed to a trickle. The house goes on the market in a few days, and we have arranged the first three months apartments in France. It looks as if this is really happening. But then, at the peak of the chaos, Jeannie’s father Gene, at 85 had a bout with appendicitis. That had us deeply concerned and running back and forth to Tampa to coordinate his care with siblings.

I have always said that there are three kinds of things: - Things you have to do, - Things you need to do, - Things you want to do. I generally do the things that I have to do, then I do the things I want to do. I ignore the things that I need to do because they will eventually become things that I have to do and will get done, or rarely, they become things I want to do and they get done. And sometimes they just go away.

Do you remember Tetris the computer game from the mid-80s? The objective of the game was to maneuver four-square shapes, as they cascaded down the playing field, by moving each one sideways and rotating it, with the aim of creating a horizontal line of ten blocks without gaps. Our Slow Nomads adventure (and life in general) is much like that game. Unknown things and occurrences appear without our control and we nudge and rotate them so that they all fit together nicely into an entire row and then they disappears. Of course, it doesn’t always work that way.

Dear reader, this blog isn’t just for you. This blog is MY journal of the experience of this craziness we have embarked upon. If it were Jeannie’s journal it would be a spreadsheet complete with pivot tables. And she does really GREAT pivot tables, but hardly as riveting as my inspired prose. You will be subjected to a bunch of preliminary preparation stuff and philosophical introspection. And that is one of the reasons for keeping this journal. We will be able to come back here and remember the anguish of those stupid decisions.

I feel a special responsibility for things that come into my possession that have had great meaning to someone. They are a special connection to the past, just as the Rosetta stone, or the megaliths of Stonehenge, or my father’s High School yearbook. So too, was Grandma Alexander’s accordion. While she was not a blood relative of Jeannie’s family, she was Granddad’s second wife, and she was loved by us all without reservation. We, by chance, came to possess her accordion.

As part of our quest to simplify and downsize, we are trying to become paperless. Though we’ve heard that’s a goal of many businesses, it’s rarely achieved. Our incoming paper stream has been greatly reduced as we’ve opted for electronic statements. So, much of our accumulated paper is from prior years. I don’t know why I’ve felt the need to hang on to the last paper statement, even when it is from years ago. I guess they give me some form of security, in case the internet disappears one day.

We were in Miami the other night. The next day we applied for our French long-stay visa. For some reason we kind of had pre-test jitters, even though it is merely a bureaucratic formality. The paperwork had been checked multiple times, multiple copies had been made, and we even had copies of documents we probably didn’t need, but … just in case.

A great friend has made me peanut butter pies for my birthday or many years. Now, these are not ordinary peanut butter pies, they are not healthy, but they are exceptionally de-e-e-e-licious. They freeze well and it does not diminish the deliciousness. We woke up for the last time in our house, early as usual, made some instant coffee and pulled our last two slices of peanut butter pie from the freezer, and had breakfast in bed. What a treat, and as the sugar and caffeine kicked in, the packing resumed with a vengeance. The movers will arrive soon.

... to write. The house is, once again, empty. Surreal, but ... ONWARD! ... yet still ... .