The sort-of plan? Make it less convenient to stay here.
No matter when I move (working on that, people, working on that), it's going to seem like I have too much to move. Never mind that, Chris, especially since family and friends have already offered to help me schlep stuff out of here and into somewhere else; you'll move it all anyway. Seriously, I did this many, many times as a kid, as a teen, as a college student, and as a young adult. This not-moving-since-2002 thing is the aberration in light of that. A move? It'll happen. Be more ready for it.
So I'm sort-of packing. By downsizing.
Do not have grits at home until you've moved into a new home.
I've temporarily retired some of my kitchen containers. That means fewer places to put stuff, so I'm less likely to keep, say, popcorn or nuts for multiple days, plus it gets me used to (likely) not having some of this stuff handy for a bit. The three fitted metal bowls? Sealed one in the other in the other, taking up less space. My container for grits? Empty and washed, waiting to be filled with grits in some other place I lay my head. My blender? I'll probably use it once more, then clean it well and donate it. The one pull-out shelf in my refrigerator is empty; i'm going to try to keep it empty. As someday the whole fridge will be.*
That? Is for packing, and that's it.
I'm also mentally listing items that I'll probably completely pack up, or retire: even a little thing like Use that set of towels to pack, then retire that set. I almost certainly won't have room in the next place for the majority of my photo albums; I'm getting used to the idea of living without those for a bit. And that's a lot of photo albums. And the desk I'm typing this at? Will likely eventually show up on CraigsList, because it's a solid desk that someone can use. Probably just not me anymore.
You've gotten better at letting go of items. Good. Keep getting better at that.
I've thrown out a lot of magazine containers, because I now have far fewer magazines. I looked at the few well-worn copies of Mad Magazine I'd saved from the Eighties and decided to let my nostalgia be the reader of those, and I moved on. (I even got rid of my stashes of Starlog, Cinefantastique, and the mid-90s run of SciFi Universe when Mark A. Altman was editing it and my then-editor Lukas Kendall was contributing to it. The library has those now.)
Decorations -- OK, some -- are off of my walls. Tapes I'll never listen to again are thrown away; no, I don't need the songs from the Forrest Gump soundtrack anymore. That's not a big sacrifice. Neither is not having bacon here, but maybe it'll seem like it.
The next place? Will have bacon.
* Reminds me of an anecdote! Several years ago I came back here after an overnight road trip to find that the power to my fridge was off, and had been turned off during repairs to the building. The landlord apologized and paid to replace its contents. Later I was filling in Dad on what had happened and Dad said "Well, you probably didn't need to replace everything in the fridge, a fridge stays cool for a while..." I said, "Dad, it was room temperature." Dad said, "Oh."