On goodbye yellow brick road...

I just filled two boxes with books I intend to leave behind. Finding a new apartment and wrapping your head around yet another move will do that to you.

My guy and I ventured to Raleigh on Friday with two missions: 1) Fill out his paperwork for grad school and 2) Find a place to live. Mission(s) Accomplished! And no, this is not coming you you live from a carrier and no, I don't have a banner in the backdrop. And, no, I don't quite have a job just yet, but we had to get my guy set up either way. Now I'm simply left to stare at my cell phone while hitting refresh on my email waiting, waiting, waiting to hear from my super important interview from last week. (pause). Sorry, had to hit refresh again.

We actually found our new place on Friday night. We intended to spend all day Saturday looking around, but once we arrived at our 5th stop of the first evening and realized it was everything we could possibly want, we dropped off our application Saturday morning. We were pretty much giddy walking out of the place, so it really was a no brainer. The rest of Saturday was spent bumming around downtown and campus and getting home a couple of hours earlier than expected. Not so bad at all.

We're downgrading to a one bedroom, but that probably makes a great deal of sense as we transition to a one income family, for the most part. Plus, though many of our friends and family claim they can't wait to visit, we can't quite imagine we'll be hosting any more folks than we saw when we lived in DC - a city with a lot more to do than Raleigh and with three major airports and Amtrak serving the area. We know you really think you're going to visit and we really appreciate it. But, we're also realists. The air mattress will do for the few, the proud, and the brave who venture our way.

We couldn't be more excited about the apartment. My guy's commute, and my potential commute, are a breeze at about 10 minutes maximum. Our balcony faces a lovely wooded area with a pond in the complex, a complex that is brand new and within spitting distance of every store or restaurant you can possibly think of. We're within walking distance of a Harris Teeter, and the development has a lovely gym, ample parking, and no enclosed staircases, resulting in a smaller chance of stairwell sex. It's been a problem with our neighbors as of late. And my fingers are crossed but, from the looks of the place, I'm guessing there won't be a need for a "crack clause", as I like to call it, in the lease. Our current lease does have a whole section devoted to a scout's honor to not sell, distribute or do drugs on the property. A final good sign? The state trooper car that's constantly parked out front belongs to a resident. The lights aren't typically flashing, unlike our current situation. ACES! Nevertheless, I did insist on an upper level unit, in an homage to my street smarts.

My guy and I made a promise to each other to do the mother of all purges of our collective crap, ahem, possessions long before we agreed to get a one bedroom, but now it's simply necessary. As the friends who helped us with our last move can attest, we have WAY too much stuff. And, really, they only helped with my portion of the move. But living on your own for the last 9 years (not counting college) can result in some major gathering. It's what we women do, after all. Still, it was painful to move last time and painful to watch our helpers. I'm committed to getting it under control.

But it makes me so sad to let go of books. They're the notches on the bedpost of my intellect! I adore looking over my bookshelves and taking in this impressive sample of what I've read. I also just love how books look; simple, sophisticated and a decorative insight into the mind of the owner. Nevertheless, they serve no real purpose and I will never pick them up again. Well, except to move apartments. And I can find new homes for them where they will be loved and cared for and perhaps passed on from there to another exciting destination.

So what's getting cut?

My Bill Bryson collection - ouch. This hurts. A lot.
Bridget Jones 1 and 2, The Nanny Diaries and any other chick lit that is required reading for lady singletons in their twenties. Good riddance. A long time coming... really.
Various undergraduate and graduate required reading. Ok, not all of it. But I'm down to two from undergrad and about five from grad.
Anything written by Maria Shriver meant to inspire me.
And on and on and on..

So what stays?
Whatever is left that I haven't read.
Ripley Bogle - my favorite book from my London Study Abroad experience. The trip that taught me how to be a scholar and opened up my eyes to a whole new world.
Troilus and Criseyde and The Canterbury Tales - they made me fall in love with the English major.
Grad school classics - Higher Education Law and the Black-White Test Score gap. You can borrow them if you promise to give them back.
The Position - a good read, nothing memorable, but the first book my guy ever gave me.
A Prayer for Owen Meany stays too. My favorite John Irving book. I introduced Irving's writing to my guy with this one and I'm pretty sure he loved me a little more for the experience of it.
The Red Tent - responsible for taking me out of a reading rut and making me appreciate religion again.
Art History books - yes they're heavy, but they're also my brother.
The Little Prince - for religious purposes.

Neither list is exhaustive. And I'm sure some of the cuts will make their way back to the shelf before all is said and done. Purge number 2 of my clothes and shoes will come next, followed by my excessive coffee mug collection. Note: I completed purge number one months ago on the shoes and clothes, and yet the bags STILL remain in my apartment. Methinks that's not the best sign for really letting go.