On our way to sign the deed to our house I felt excited.
Like we were on our way to have a baby.
Except for the part about the baby.
No heartburn.
Back pain from lifting boxes, not from something sitting on pelvis.
Instead, We got all of the joy without any labor pains.
Now I am standing in my kitchen.
Surrounded by so much clutter and disorder that I want to cry.
I go to start one thing and find myself somewhere else.
I go to organize the desk and I end up packing half of a box from the pantry.
Where I go to find something that will fit in the open box from the pantry.
Where I find a pile of clothes in the hall.
Where I separate into darks and whites.
Put some into the washer.
Where I stand deciding if I want to run one last load of laundry.
So I go out to the kitchen to see if I can throw anything else in the laundry.
Where I see some receipts.
That I add to the pile to calculate in the budget.
Where I remember I was trying to pack a box in the pantry.
And then I hear max cry from the back of the house.
And I want to cry with her b/c I don't know what to put in the box from the pantry.
So I decide to call it quits and finish in the morning, but then I pass the box on the way to the pantry and talk myself into finishing it b/c we are moving.
Like TOMORROW.
And then I'm excited again.
And my skin is crawling from the boxes all around.
And I wonder how the hoarders do it.
Tripping over crap at every turn.
So I think I'll try to pack that box b/c hopefully it will give max time to fall back asleep and maybe it will make something feel more organized.
Does moving always feel this disorganized at the end?
I must have forgotten.
When I see there's some bubblewrap left and have an idea about starting another box...
Like we were on our way to have a baby.
Except for the part about the baby.
No heartburn.
Back pain from lifting boxes, not from something sitting on pelvis.
Instead, We got all of the joy without any labor pains.
Now I am standing in my kitchen.
Surrounded by so much clutter and disorder that I want to cry.
I go to start one thing and find myself somewhere else.
I go to organize the desk and I end up packing half of a box from the pantry.
Where I go to find something that will fit in the open box from the pantry.
Where I find a pile of clothes in the hall.
Where I separate into darks and whites.
Put some into the washer.
Where I stand deciding if I want to run one last load of laundry.
So I go out to the kitchen to see if I can throw anything else in the laundry.
Where I see some receipts.
That I add to the pile to calculate in the budget.
Where I remember I was trying to pack a box in the pantry.
And then I hear max cry from the back of the house.
And I want to cry with her b/c I don't know what to put in the box from the pantry.
So I decide to call it quits and finish in the morning, but then I pass the box on the way to the pantry and talk myself into finishing it b/c we are moving.
Like TOMORROW.
And then I'm excited again.
And my skin is crawling from the boxes all around.
And I wonder how the hoarders do it.
Tripping over crap at every turn.
So I think I'll try to pack that box b/c hopefully it will give max time to fall back asleep and maybe it will make something feel more organized.
Does moving always feel this disorganized at the end?
I must have forgotten.
When I see there's some bubblewrap left and have an idea about starting another box...
3 comments:
This may sound crazy to you, but when I am either cleaning a really messy area, or packing stuff up, this is what I do:
Put everything into one HUGE pile in the center of the room. Everything. The other areas now look clean and organized because everything that was there before is now in the pile. Start sorting through the pile by grabbing one thing at a time and finding its place or box. The pile will get smaller and smaller in no time.
Good luck packing and at closing. I can't wait till your computer is fixed and to see more pics of the new house!!
Moving is so, so hard. I'm really lucky because I have Dave the amazing organizer man as my husband.
I would be lost without him. Somehow, he makes it happen...and I just sort of go along for the ride.
=)
Ugh. I am not especially a fan of moving. I mean, the packing and un-packing sort of thing. But isn't it wonderful you will be going to the place where you will raise your family. A big yard to play in, a play room for all the toys. And a nice big kitchen. All your own. That has got to make up for the horribleness of moving, right?
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