The shelves are empty.
The books are in boxes, the carpet runner is rolled up, and the shelves are empty.
There’s a purple duffel bag on top of a suitcase, and perched delicately on the duffel bag is a box cover with a hair dryer, flat iron, Hello Kitty bag, and other miscellaneous items. It looks like it may fall over at any moment, but when you build towers of things, that is the danger, and in any case it will not matter for much longer because the shelves are empty.
There is a box not yet filled with but intended to hold kitcheny things. It contains a coffee maker and a toaster, and a grocery bag with coffee filters inside. The bowls, mugs, and blender that will shortly be placed inside are downstairs in the kitchen. The clothes are not all packed. Most are, but some are yet hung and others are thrown over the chair. The office supplies are boxed away, but the porcelain doll still stands serenely and the jewelry remains. In the world outside, entropy increases; for the next few days, this room will defy that law of nature. After all, the shelves are empty.
The camera is next to stickies which are next to Kleenex which points away from the mirror next to the violin on the floor that holds so much dust but would you worry about it much if you remembered the shelves are empty?
Take a deep breath,
s l o w
and enjoy the moment, because if you don’t you might forget all the nervousness and excitement you had when the shelves were empty.