Feeling empty

I rather enjoy living without a lot of stuff.  Stuff complicates things, gets in the way, creates clutter.  If I keep it simple I tend to be able to think and feel more clearly.  But I reached a new level in minimalist living this week as most of my belongings are now on a truck bound for Saskatchewan.  I had to send it off three weeks ahead of my own departure to ensure that it would all be waiting for me when I fly away at the end of the month.  Not ideal, but I'd rather be without at this end than on the other side of Manitoba.  Usually coming home at the end of the day (or in the middle) is comforting because I've got my crappy couch to sit on, my old boom box to listen to, and a comfy bed to climb into when I've had enough of dealing with the day.  Now all that stuff is gone and I've got a big space to exist in for about three weeks.  The cats are enjoying the makeshift bed and don't seem to care about the lack of stuff (first thing Cameron did was check that the food dish was still in the kitchen...typical), but I'm finding it uncomfortable.  Physically, because lying on the floor for extended periods is painful, but also emotionally because there's less to distract me from all the thoughts bouncing around my head ("is this move stupid or brave?" "what if I lose a cat at the airport?" "will I be a flop at my new job?" "why is there no State Farm Insurance in Saskatchewan?" "will I freeze to death by January?").  Maybe this is a good thing, though.  Perhaps if I dump all my worries into the empty space in my living room I won't have to examine them so closely after I hit Saskatoon, I can simply go about  quelling my anxiety by turning my concerns on their heads.