I knew it was coming; I was going to have to deal with it. The apartment was echoing more and more. Small things were growing sparse. Only a few big items remained, waiting for hands and a truck. I made the final pass for things that could go in boxes and it was on the topmost eastern shelf in the closet. There was no denying it's presence. I recalled the entire thread in my mind, unwound it like so many rolls of film. I grabbed a UCSD bike-to-work shirt that never fit right, an old license plate from a car I no longer have, and it. They all went in the trash bin. Later we came by, six hands and a truck, and moved the last big pieces. After everything was up in the new apartment, we opened a couple Full Suits, put on a Stan Getz record, and talked about trial enrollment, prospective stratification, the different styles of diplomatic fencing, conference abstracts, and genetic disorders.
...and life doesn't wait for anybody.