This is how much it takes for me to be happy

I hate packing.  I'm an unpacker.  I love discovering each item and finding it a special place as I go along.  I'm a nester.  I've been this way since I went to college, painting every dormroom, trying to make each place feel so cozy and warm.  But I move so often.  My last move (the move to France) was the most painful.  I had an entire home's worth of stuff. Furniture, books, clothes, shoes, hobbies, everything.  I sold it or gave it away or donated it.  A whole house's worth.  I squirreled away a few boxes with friends and family and took 3 suitcases to France.  I felt awful about it and I was embarrassed by how awful I felt - I thought it was a sign that I was materialistic despite my constant claims otherwise.

Now as I pack to go again, I re-evaluate all my things.  Piles thrown out.  Piles given away.  Piles donated.  Piles to ship.  Piles to bring on the plane.  My new awesome job is having some of my things shipped for me.  This photo is everything that is going (minus about 10 items still hanging in my closet).  You can see the two suitcases that will go on the plane with me on the left.  That is it.  My life.  In piles.