I am so embarrassed. All these columns and books I have written on downsizing and decluttering and my oh my, the mess I am in. Moving is the ultimate truth test. As I pack up the house husband DC and I have lived in for eight years, box towers line the halls, packed and stacked like big-city skylines. Each room coughs up its contents like a kid with consumption. I fear I may never see a clear counter again.

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