I have heard that my father is arriving soon from the work abroad. Never had good relationships with my mother. Impulsively took fathers car, picked up some box, loaded everything I had in there, went to the flat and unpacked everything. Two weeks later stuffed my small, vintage cardboard suitcase with all my least valuable possessions - shirts, trousers, everything I wanted to get rid of, and went volunteering to Romania. Now a month to move back to my flat, I have no idea what to put in my suitcase. Only few articles of clothing left, have a diary, some diplomas and medals, tourism guides.
Good luck with the move and with deciding what to put in that suitcase. I would imagine there is a liberation that comes with knowing all you have to carry about is a suitcase. Reminds if that George Carlin bit about "stuff".