Chez Kitty is undergoing retrofixing.

When we first found soon-to-be Kitty Manor, we loved it. We loved it so much (and were so desperate to get into a home) that we pretty much purchased it as soon as the home inspector said, "No mold, no termites." Just about everything else, we knew we could (pay through the nose to get someone to) fix.

We sort of skipped over his report that the slab on which the condo is built is cracked...

Let's just say in a few weeks' time I'll let you all know about that "SlabJack" concept where they drill holes through the slab, then inject concrete under pressure to buoy up the structure. It's the less disruptive option. Instead of tearing apart the structure to 'fix it right,' we need only clear out the affected areas. Should be done in a few weeks.

Until then, it's like Clan Kitty is moving again. In a way, we are -- down to the in-laws, one row of condos down. We're boxing stuff up, trying to clean and clear our way out of the accretion that is everyday life. We're not just throwing away items, but in many cases, talismans we've infused with memories. Yes, the memories are in our heads, but these mere objects are the keys to those ethereal wisps.

No, we're not throwing out anything precious, not knowingly at least. However, there are so many Kitten-scraps of art, so many TaerKitty hunks of tech-junk. Well, I can't really make a case for keeping all that, save the lame "I could need it someday."

Still, that's many memories going into the heap. It's draining in many ways. The schlepping is physically fatiguing. The planning and packing is mentally challenging. (Does this mean I'm mentally challenged?) But worst of all is the psychic sinkhole of choosing which memories to no longer remember.