I report to you, live from the chaos! I am currently sitting on the office floor, leaning up against some bags of clothing we’ve set aside to donate. Ahh…pretty cushy! A welcome reprieve from the constant activity.
We get the moving truck tomorrow. We get the keys tomorrow. We are still packing. I have a feeling it will be a mad dash until the very end. (Funny how you always promise yourself that it won’t happen and, if you’re me at least, it always somehow does!)
My back hurts a little. Not the best sign, but I promise that I am taking care of it. I make sure to take stretching breaks. I use a foam roller to attack the tightest places, and I apply tiger balm at night. As long as this doesn’t progress, and I am vigilant, we are ok. As long as my back is ok, I can be depended upon to do lots of physical work.
Because this IS physical work. My outfits for the past few days have been gym outfits. No telling when you’ll have to bend, stretch, reach, haul things out from the back of a cupboard, or truck things up and down the stairs. You definitely get your 10,000 steps a day moving house!
Obviously I can’t spend too much time hiding away and writing, but my office break gives Jason a break as well. You see, there are only three people I know who can pack anything properly; my mother, me, and my friend Avi.
I don’t know. Maybe YOU’RE great at packing too, but I haven’t seen you pack, so I can’t vouch for it. 😉 My sister says she’s got the familial gene or whatever it is that makes you so keen to organize minutiae, but I haven’t seen her pack anything that I can recall, so I can’t add her to the list either.
I don’t know what it is exactly that makes someone superior at packing things. Is it an OCD streak? A lesser need for perfection? Or do we just happen to be flipping amazing at this life skill? I would vote for the latter, but I think that Jason might disagree.
You see, I pack a box like I am loading a dishwasher; with a regimented approach to space and materials. (In my world, plastics only go on the bottom and lines are only askew if someone else has touched the machine.) I approach boxes the same way; I fit things in just so, fill the space so that nothing moves, tape and label. I employ Meticulous size-based order within boxes so that no space goes to waste. Like things go with like so that each box holds a somewhat predictable array of objects. Ohhhhm…
It’s weird, because I don’t think I am an insanely tidy person, but I get a definite sense of “correctness” from a well-packed box. That alone tells me that there is something…a bit odd going on with my adhesion to this regimented standard. How altogether strange that for such an “artsy” person, I simply cannot tolerate wasted space, or a haphazard approach to this whole thing at all.
The cats are reacting about as anticipated. One is spending most of her time hiding away, avoiding noise and change. The other climbs box walls, bats at tiny pieces of paper and tape on the floor and follows us around, basically treating the house as her own awesome cat-jungle gym. Attitude (Cattitude?) is everything, you guys.
We’re getting rid of a bunch of stuff too. 4 bags of clothing (currently being leaned against by me), plus a big ol’ box of toys, a box of books, and another bag of assorted stuff. This, to me, might be one of the best parts of the moving process. We get to go into our new place with less stuff, and we get to help out some other folks too!
Morgana’s room and the office remain the biggest challenges. They are where I need to spend the bulk of my time after my little self-imposed time out. And I have to pack up the last of the clothes. And then there’s wiping everything down. And packing up the costume and art stuff that’s still out. And clearing out the rest of the hall closet. And what do I do with all of these magazines? And…
You know what guys? I think I’d better get back to it!
In excitement, love, light and mild irritation,