You can buy my childhood today, at auction

Brando has moved on from sniffing the boxes that arrived from Pennsylvania a little over a week ago. Now he has simply taken possession of an old blanket that I'd used in packing some of the items. Wherever the blanket is, Brando plants himself on top of it and refuses to move, which makes me wish I'd taken more from my parents' house before today's auction. I've been pouring over the items that will be on sale, and thinking "Wait, that's still there? I thought someone had taken it!" And yet, realistically, I have no need for cut glass or silver tea services.

I do wish I'd remembered to take my Italian Annie Hall poster, or the Andy Warhol coke bottles, or my Rembrandt reproduction etchings. Yet, I do not need them. And still it is strange to see them listed as part of the sale.

Things I did remember to take: My Chitty Chitty Bang Bang car; a green glass insulator collected from an old power line; my Keith Haring inflatable baby; our dog's obedience certificate.

A friend here in New Orleans asked if I had done a final walk through before leaving last month. I did not. At the time, I still hadn't decided whether I'd be coming back for the sale, and we were anticipating that the house itself would be on the market for quite a while before we found a buyer. But yesterday we were surprised with an offer, and accepted it. So, now it really is done, isn't it?

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