Stuffed

Will he come today?

That is my waking thought every day. (I allow the gender-specific reference only in deference to Samuel Beckett.)

Will the right buyer show up today, offer a contract and buy the condo so I can pack up and head for San Francisco?

Today, eight people came to my realtor's Open House here. That's good. We'll see.

Meanwhile, I walk through my rooms eyeing Stuff. "You're going," I say to the Madcracker poster. "You're not," I tell the photograph of the teen-age moose. "What?" I imagine the moose saying. "You would opt for an old poster over a real photo of a real moose?"

Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I will sell both.

To help me sort it all out, I am reading Julie Morgenstern's book "When Organizing Isn't Enough: SHED Your Stuff, Change Your Life." That acronym stands for:

* Separate the treasure.

* Heave the trash.

* Embrace your identity.

* Drive yourself forward.

Sounds like more of a workout than water aerobics.

I am not, as some friends have pointed out, particularly attached to my stuff -- at least until I stare at any one item and try to determine whether to take it or leave it.

I do know that I am not my stuff. I know that my stuff does not define me.

Had I not known, I would have found out in Morgenstern's book. Still, I'm not sure that my inner bohemian is ready to shed every last item. The trick seems to be choosing what will make the journey and what will go to the down-sizing sale.

Deciding about big stuff is easy. I'll sell the bedroom furniture, the dining room furniture, the office furniture. I really like my loveseat and the matching chair-and-a-half and ottoman. I can't leave behind my purple shell-shaped chair.

I've looked at used furniture on Craisglist. People are eager to shed --- er, sell -- lovely kitchen tables, desks and bedroom sets. I'll buy those when I get to San Francisco. People also are eager to sell lumpy, discolored couches and chairs. The guy from the moving company said if I leave behind my living room furniture, I'll save $295.

Ha! I can't replace what I have for that. I will take my upholstered furniture, and be happy that I did.

"Just take your purse," said my friend Gail.

Another friend, when I told her Gail's advice, commented, "She's got a bigger purse."