Why do we have so many . . . knick-knacks? (And why are they called that, any way? Makes me get the give a dog a bone song in my head...)

A friend of mine was recently discussing with me the best way to pack knick-knacks, picture frames, and other small items that we keep just for the fun and challenge of having to pack them in such as way as to avoid breaking them on the move. She said she always gathers them all together first (as opposed to packing room-by-room) so that she can then pack similar items together. Simple. But a beautiful plan. So I tried it.

I cleared off our dining room table (the one that seats eight), and spent a morning walking around the house and gathering items. First of all, this was something of an Easter hunt in itself; it's as if, when I 'decorated' our house two years ago, I chose locations for picture frames and figurines based on how inconspicuous they might be when I tried to find them later. When I finally thought I had everything, I had to go around twice more, just to be sure.

And then, the horror struck. I looked at our nice, spacious table, and realized it had suddenly turned into something resembling one of those souvenir tables in the middle of a Six Flags shop, filled with variously themed keychains and coffeemugs and magnets, organized, and yet still dizzying. That was my table. I had picture frames on one end, candles in the middle, and everything else at the other end, but it still seemed to be a little circus of useless things that threatened any moment to take on a life of its own (you've seen Chucky? now imagine my Willow Tree angels trapezing from the miniature candle lampshade. . .).

It took me two days, then, to face the idea of forcing all that junk into boxes, but I finally did. And boy, am I proud. Five boxes. Not a thing left behind (although I'd have been happy to leave out the Reagan bobble-head). . . this packing stuff is going to be traumatic for me, I can already tell.