… plenty of boxes and a ball of rubberbands.  That is what it takes to pack for a move to Sydney, Australia.  If you have those items, you’re good to go.  Oh, and a ton of patience.  Master Packer skills are also a bonus.

I have been in much trouble lately for not updating the blog.  In my defense, it’s been difficult to find a free moment to do so, as the past 10 days have brought the following milestones:

• FHA Approval on our condos on 25 February 2010.  Maybe they will sell now.
• Australia Visas received 26 February.  We can really go now.
• My Gilead annual bonus clears the bank on 27 February.  I can really resign now.
• One-way airline tickets purchased for Sydney, Australia (via Honolulu) on 28 February.  We can prepare for extra security screening now.
• Resign from Gilead on 01 March after nearly 7 years of service.  I can really let the cat out of the bag now.
• Bennie, our beloved camper van, is driven off by his new owners on 04 March.  We started missing him before he even left but we can miss him more now.
• Last day at Gilead on 05 March.  There is lunch and cake and Azteca.  I am full and happy and a little bit sad now.
• An offer and mutual acceptance on my condo on 05 March.  Things are really starting to fall into place now.
• Jetta is sold on 06 March.  We can start to figure out final logistics now.
• Evening after evening of happy hour/dinner send-offs from great friends.  We can really start to miss them all now.

Certainly there have been a few moments of “what in the hell are we doing?”.  These tend to happen when we are faced with a full closet or a fragile Macintosh or last night, a brand new, travel-size, 1.5 oz bottle of shaving creme.  You know you have been sorting and purging and packing for too long when you just stand there, bottle in hand, unable to decide whether it should get thrown into a checked bag or the garbage.  You examine it, note how full it is, talk about it, say you’ll think about it, fondle it less than a minute later, and talk about it all over again.  It’s a scary new level of packer-itis.

You spend more time than you care to admit creating lists.  There are accounts to close, addresses to modify, subscriptions to unsubscribe, 401K’s to rollover, shipping estimates to obtain, condos to sell, craigslist deals to broker (these never end), HOA Treasurer positions to transition, hairs to be cut, people to see, and items to return to REI and the library.  You remember one thing as assuredly as you forget the next.

The house is littered with boxes, bubble wrap, packing tape and paper.  You haven’t taken the outdoor icicle lights down yet because all the lamps have been sold and their glow provides the only illumination into the living room.  You top off the aerobed every couple of days after you blow the dust off your clothes piled on the floor.  You poke and prod and squish and analyze every pillow, trying to pick the two best ones that will not only cushion your head, but will protect the computer while in transit for the next two months.  You tell time by the position of the sun, for all of the clocks have been sold too.

You want to waste time, goof off, enjoy that sliver of sunshine that just poked through the clouds, for now you are free from work and shouldn’t that mean all fun and games?  But there is another pile, another drawer, another cupboard, another closet, another stack of papers demanding your attention.  Everything needs a place to go, whether it be in a suitcase bound for Sydney or a pickup truck bound for Goodwill.

So we keep moving forward, knowing that this is an opportunity of a lifetime and is already worth every second of effort.  It’s not the stress of packing but the gratefulness for having so many wonderful treasures to keep or better yet, donate.  It’s not the sadness at goodbyes but the blessing of having such amazing and caring friends, family and co-workers to share in these and future experiences.  It’s what we choose to make of it, and it’s what it takes to move to Sydney.  That, plenty of boxes, and a ball of rubberbands.