I am feeling really weird and uncomfortable today. Since our new apartments are so much smaller, we are giving away a ton of our furniture, all of which I really liked. And our washing machine and dryer. I know this is a good thing, but I feel a little bit like I’m being forced into a weird new shape without really being ready or OK with it. We are keeping lots of nice things, like our tea chest, and the coffee table my parents mosaic-ed back in the 1970s, and the dresser I bought with one of my first paychecks from my first real job. . . but I just watched our nice TV stand, our coffee table, an end table the cats loved, and some other things drive away. John and I built that household aesthetic together, and. . . I dunno. That is definitely done now. None of the stuff we’re getting rid of are antiques but I liked them, and so I feel a little strange. I know they will be loved in their new homes, and that is good, but the part of me that likes stability and comfort and being around the same stuff is confused and feeling really unhappy right now. OK, I’m done whining now.