Every project has a tipping point. And I hope I just met mine.
The shredding truck showed up today to eat the thirty-six boxes of files from my ten years of private practice. Oddly, I felt no sense of loss. If I felt anything it was relief.
Relief at not being forced to slip each page through a finicky personal shredder. Instead, a mechanism similar to a garbage truck fed bins of files into the shredder's maw. I now know te sound of masticating giants.
The arrival of the shredder freed up boxes to reshelve my hardback books for staging -- and to ship off my paperbacks to some charitable organization. Along with the books will go a full truckload of personal items that would have made good garge sale fodder. But there is no time.
I contracted with a cleaning firm to give the place a thorough scubbing next week. If all goes well, the house will be listed on 1 February -- and I will be n my way back to Mexico on 2 February.
Oaxaca and Chiapas await.
