Tyranny of the moving box
Deciding which RPG books would accompany my immigration proved extremely tough.
Moving is a quietly harrowing experience. You cram your entire material existence into boxes and crates, leaving a home that feels haunted by the sudden absence of stuff. Except, we often use relocations as an excuse to declutter. A forced purge of items — clothing, tools, or decorative ephemera — that should have been rehomed or trashed years ago.
This task is more difficult when you move internationally, as every tape-wrapped item will bleed you for a three-figure sum to cross the ocean. It puts a knuckle-rapping ruler in Marie Kondo’s hand as she no longer asks, “does it bring you joy?” but rather, “are you seriously bringing that?” Books are the worst offenders, and would you believe that a tabletop journalist has an embarrassment of books without the funds to move them transatlantic? Thus, I have been purging. It’s terrible.
