As I get ready for my road-trip, I hear George Carlin laughing in my ear …

I have spent a few years accumulating stuff. I also had help accumulating stuff. I’ve also bought stuff for Lily because, she needs her stuff, too.

Collecting stuff is another part of the wave of life. We collect stuff. The collecting process may slow some, but the amount still always rises.

OK, the amount only rises to the point where you make some change in your life. Then you pare down. Sometimes, you pare way down. And I’m paring way down.

I’m moving to a furnished apartment, so furniture won’t be a part of my collection of crap I have to cram into my car, along with Lily the Wonder Cat. I don’t want her feeling any more claustrophobic than she has to in her little kitty carrier that she will be spending her days in. She likes to be able to chill.

So I have had to figure out the essentials. It is kind of like finding the zombie apocalypse is scheduled to start in four days, so you pick what you are gonna take with you to your safe space. And it all has to fit into a 2017 Mazda CX-5 while maintaining optimal visibility out of all windows.

#1: Clothes. Nobody in Wenatchiee will be wanting to see me sans apparel. But I’m not a terribly stylish man under the best of circumstances. “Built for comfort, not for speed” had always been my disclaimer. Fortunately for me, Miss Kathy doesn’t appear offended too much by my lack of fashion sense. Thank the stars.

So, even though I will have access to a washer & drier, I have already packed enough underwear to last me two weeks. But one never knows when one will require clean drawers. Besides, you can never predict when your underwear will lose its molecular cohesiveness, which is when underwear is no longer any good at covering up your junk. (AKA, that shit is falling apart.)
Socks? I generally only wear them for work. I could likely go for a month with the supply I have. I’ve got socks, because I have children. They are always the perfect gift. And these are just the plain white ones.

I also have amassed an impressive collection of rather colorful and obnoxious socks. Actually, they were a gift.
After Liz passed, a lovely angel named Alissa, messaged me to ask how I was doing. I answered, “I can’t even tell you if my socks match.

A few days later, I received a package with this wonderful assortment of brightly colored, striped socks … some sporting unfortunate sayings such as “Fuck this shit” or “I don’t care, I’m high”.
I wear them religiously, and they make me happy. Points, Alissa. Points.
Rounding out my clothing is my collection of t-shirts, which I wear under my scrubs, as well as pretty much all of the rest of the time. I follow the same criteria for my t-shirts as my socks as far as obnoxiousness. I follow the underwear cohesiveness protocol for how long they will remain in service.
Rounding out my clothing is a coat & tie, my Peacoat, my tourist looking tropical shirt collection, and several pair of shorts, most of them being cargo shorts in khaki. Why? I don’t know. My clothing rides a wave all it’s own.

#2 would be my cooking stuff. My apartment allegedly has all I need to cook, but it isn’t my stuff.
Instant Pot, sous vide stick, immersion blender, spice grinder, a couple whisks, Food Save vacuum gizmo and a few rolls of vacuum bags, and a Kitchen Aid mixer …
And the revered knife block. I a can turn anything into food with these items. That, and hot sauce.

#3 will be “technology”. Cameras, computers, tablet, USB chargers, a half dozen hard drives, router, Hue lighting (I’m a huge Hue whore. Judge me.), and perhaps some iteration of ALexa.

I have a love/hate relationship with Alexa. But let’s be honest, while we are worrying about Alexa listening to our every word, Google and Siri both know know every time we go to the bathroom, how long we are there, what we are doing while we are there, and that you were posting funny crap on Facebook while you were doing whatever you were doing in there. Alexa is the least of our worries, since we don’t carry her around in our pocket.

And let’s be honest here … We all know lots of you ladies tuck your phones into your bras. Google and Siri know that, too … And they have cameras. I’m just saying.

#4 will be personal items. This is the hardest one. Things to make the place I’m going to stay feel just a bit more like home.

The single most important thing will be a piece of coral. It is shaped like a heart. It was my graduation present from ultrasound school. I think Liz thought it was simply novel, but it means a great deal to me.

It was a natural shape that simply occurred by chance. It is from the sea. It is a heart. And it was chosen by her. She was a natural born gift giver. She should have given classes.

There are books to be chosen, pictures to be selected, favored glasses to drink wine from. Mementos of past life to make future, unknown life, feel more familiar.
I can’t forget Lily’s stuff. I can’t fit her Kitty Condo into the car, so I guess she will get a new one. And I’ll make sure it can be easily dismantled this time.

I’m sure you will, in the ensuing weeks and months, hear me whining about what stuff I wish I hadn’t left behind. But it will sharpen my experience in doing this, so it will be more efficient the next time. Or, one can hope. It could just be the same shit show, different day.

I’ve set out on new roads with far less stuff than this before, but it was never so hard to figure out what stuff to take with me. Some waves carry significantly more amplitude than others, and it takes a lot of attenuation to to erode them to to a less perceptible level.

As the command would be announced in the Navy, “Make all preparations for getting underway. Make readiness reports to the Officer of the Deck on the Quarterdeck.”

In four days, the USS Greyscale gets underway. Stay tuned as myself and my First Mate, Lily, cast off our lines and steer for a star that calls us, along with all of our stuff. Almost time to deploy and navigate some new waves. I’m sure we will pick up a couple new crew members and stuff along the way.
”To the Front!”