moving clock

The problem with moving every 1-2 years is that you get to this time of year and a little clock goes off in your head that says packpackpackpackPACK. Even if you don't have a destination yet. I'm pacing the house today looking at boxes to see what I can get rid of. On the one hand, if you really live somewhere, it's a good idea to stock up on certain kinds of things so that when your kids suddenly announce they need something for TOMORROW, you can dig into your art or school or costume supplies, and there it is. And keeping grown-out clothes around is a good thing because then you already have a core of free clothes to start the next kid out in instead of buying everything from scratch. At the same time, a little voice inside says to get rid of everything I can because it's only taking up space and will have to be carted off at some point, anyway, and since we didn't miss any of this still while we were gone, do we really still need to own it?

Yesterday I was sailing through chapter 15, a chapter I had already written that was pretty cohesive and only needed some tweaking. Today is chapter 16, which my crit group rightly says is a string of bitty, unrelated scenes (not in so many words, but they do), and they're right. And now that I have a Grand Unifying Theory of my novel, it's high time to organize those scenes into a meaningful chapter. But it takes some thought. So I guess it's good to have that to think about as I sort stuff and wipe my nose and wait for the seeds to sprout that I planted yesterday.

Sigh. It seems that I am always planting seeds, but that's as far as I get.