Whine, whine.

Moving sucks. Like, not the yay-we-got-a-new-house part of moving, not even the schlepping-these-boxes-all-day part (which I’m sure will suck enough in its own special way once the actual day arrives, which by the way if anyone wants to offer some help, feel free), but the excruciatingly slow and laborious process of boxing things up.

I hate not being able to pack everything up all at once, having to leave half the stuff behind because we will certainly need it in the coming two weeks. I spend each day packing, literally, all day long (audiobooks rock, by the way) and at the end of the day the house looks exactly the same… except now it’s cluttered with recycled boxes like we’re living in some crazily stacked warehouse junkie with a liquor problem. We have to take a winding path through the living room now. And so in addition to the to-be-expected stress of moving, I get to enjoy my own special flavor of neuroses that stem from the house being messy and -gasp- unorganized. With things not in their right places.

It would help if I could completely clear out one cupboard at a time and gain some sense of completion or progress, but of course when you start this far in advance no space can ever be fully packed. Because in the 2 weeks that remain before closing, I’m sure we’ll need the raincoats, or the flour, or the toilet paper. I should probably not box up all J’s clothes, because he might need to not go to work naked. You know. So the house is FULL of piles, and yet so are the closets, shelves, and cupboards. I feel like I’m on a treadmill, or some kind of Sisyphean trial, or perhaps that all of our stuff is actually made of Tribbles and my packing is simply creating more of it.

J assures me that what I’m doing will save us stress in the end, but… really? In the mean time… we can have dinner at home, but I’ve packed the tablecloths. We could go out to the park, but we’ll have to squint in the sun because I packed all our hats. I can sit in my glider as long as I don’t hope to relax fully because I packed the ottoman. I could iron some of J’s work shirts, but I packed all the hangers. At least I didn’t have room in that last box for the sofa cushions, so there is somewhere to sit while we eat with plastic spoons because I packed most of the silverware (I didn’t really).

To make a long story short, it is exhausting to live in a halfway-state for an extended period of time. I am almost eager for the day when we frantically stuff every last thing into boxes and work till three in the morning brutally emptying every last nook and cranny. I’m sure when that day gets here I’ll be happy that half our stuff is already put away, but in the mean time…. I wish for more of a sense of completion.

It does help that I’m scoring all these dozens of boxes off our grocery store for free.

2 Responses to “Whine, whine.”

  1. Luke-o Says:

    Moving is terrible! We just now went through all of the remaining boxes from packing up a year and a half ago. There are still about 10-15 boxes in the attic of stuff we aren’t bringing out yet. But that’s way better than the 40 boxes we couldn’t unpack at our duplex!

  2. diana Says:

    A year? I can’t believe it’s been that long since you moved! Doesn’t it feel nice to have all those rooms and spread out?

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