Downsizing is an emotional trip

In preparation for my move Austin to San Francisco—or more aptly, from 1,900 to 400 square feet—I've been getting rid of a lot of the stuff I've accumulated over the years.

Downsizing is an emotional trip; I've been surfing waves of nostalgia, regret, boredom, and downright panic. It's just that each object represent something—good intentions, unrealized plans, souvenirs, false starts, utter wastes of money—and it's tough to reduce them to garbage.

On Sunday for instance, I had to have a *moment* with a pair of black patent leather Anne Klein stiletto boots. The ones an ex-boyfriend hated but I kept anyway; the ones I put on when feeling brassy; the ones I wore wobbling and cursing all the way from east Austin to downtown for a Day of the Dead parade; the ones that saved my feet from my friend's biting Terrier. I did finally find the gumption to throw them away—but only after I sung them a little song (with sincerest apologies to Julio and Willi):

To all the boots I've loved before
Who traveled in and out my door
I'm glad you came along
I dedicate this song
To all the boots I've loved before

To all the boots that danced with me
Those many nights of ecstasy
You live within my heart
I'll always be a part
Of all the boots I've loved before

The winds of change are always blowing
And every time I try to stay
The winds of change continue blowing
And they just carry me away…