I am stupid. 

I had forgotten that things do not rush forward in Italy. There is no unseemly hurry. There is no frenetic scurrying about. There is, instead, a gracious and stately procession through time. It is one of the things that we treasure most about Italian culture. It is one of the reasons that we are moving there.

That is all to say that we have not yet managed to rent the rustic farmhouse with trusted gardener. We have merely begun the conversation. There will be many days (or even weeks) during which we will continue to discuss. These will be pleasant conversations, but they will not be speedy conversations. Thus was the Renaissance made. One must respect the Renaissance and settle in for the long haul. Pull up a comfy chair.

In the meantime, I continue to pack boxes of books and cart them in loads to the storage unit. There is nothing that encourages minimalism like physically lifting up into the air every single object that you own. As this process moves forward, as I tote more heavy boxes around, I somehow find that fewer and fewer of my books are actually all that necessary to my future life. It is a hard discipline, but salutary.