Maybe I'm a shaker, definitely not a mover

We are packing me up. Soon, I will move back home so I can get my condo cleaned up and on the market. I want to sell it as fast as possible, so I have more money to contribute to the new home my sister and brother-in-law are building.

I packed the first several boxes all excited because I was moving forward, but yesterday, when we were packing up my Mego superheroes, my X-Men, some of my Star Wars stuff, I realized we're not going to be unpacking them for a while.

I did not say good-bye to everyone, so there is a very real possibility that Green Arrow or Batman or slave Leia might not remember me or be mad at me. But more than that, I am casting myself willingly into a kind of limbo for the next year or two.

Of course, this limbo has two devoted parents, including one who will care for Claren in the morning so I can sleep a little later. And it has three home-cooked meals a day and laundry done, and my sister and her family next door.

It won't be that bad, and it totally makes sense. So why am I so scared?