With the house sold, and a move-out date near, we needed a destination. We knew we were going to the desert, so CLW (Cute Little Wife) found a place we could rent by the month. We didn’t know how many months it would take to find a new house so we needed a place that wouldn’t kick us out in the middle of our search.

Then we had to plan for the final pod pack. The stuff pile had to be cut down to what would fit in the last pod and one car. If it didn’t fit in the final pod or the car, it was going to be given away.

What do you decide to fit in the car when you’re going to a rental unit? One computer for sure. In transition, the Internet would be our lifeline to the world. I actually took the printer also. I figured when researching houses we might need to print out some listings.

It’s also important to be able to wear some clothing; that is, something other than just pajamas. So two suitcases were filled with clothing. CLW filled another suitcase with shoes. And a smaller traveling case with makeup. A woman without makeup and shoes is surely a naked woman.

Food, you think you could buy. But why buy all new bottles of spices or other essential ingredients you need for cooking? So a bag had to be filled with the essential pantry items, as well as a few cans of soup – just in case we found ourselves in a strange land in which supermarkets did not stay open 24 hours a day.

Finally, there were some kitchen utensils. The rental unit would have plates and silverware. But who knew if the knives would be sharp enough? (In fact, they were not.) So sharp cutting knives were included. Finally, a favorite pot or two. The pots you find in many rental units are so thin you think that the gas burner flame will torch a hole in them. We had good stainless steel pots and they went into the car.

Saying Goodbye

The very last day in the house I must have inspected every empty room and closet about 100 times. Okay, I’m exaggerating. Maybe it was only 92. A lot of living had gone on in that house and each room had some memories.

I even crawled up into the attic one last time. Sure I was looking for stuff I had left behind. But I was also remembering all the times I had climbed up to take care of problems such as finding a roof leak or putting in new weatherproofing.

Even the garage deserved a tour because the kids had used one of its storage shelves as a fort.

Memories are not only in the things you own. They are in the spaces in which you have lived. The physical spaces were now empty. The memories were packed and stored.

We locked the doors and put the keys in the mailbox where the agent would pick them up later. We squeezed into the space we had left for two geezers in the car and drove away.

Retirement living had begun.