Where I

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...