Serenity now.
One day till moving. We're in the homestretch, and you know it's bad if I'm using the word "homestretch" or any sports reference. All that's left to pack are half the books and all the little odds and ends that are driving me crazy.
Tackling mountains of stuff is a difficult experience. It's very different than previous moves when we were in our early, mid and late twenties. I've been trying to tell myself that it's perfectly normal- we're pushing forty, of course we've accumulated all these things, from books to kitchen equipment. And clothes. And shoes. But there's always some guilt attached to your worldly possessions. Mostly, because they are, well, so worldly, and one can't avoid thinking of all the places and people whose problems go far beyond the proper way to transport a Kitchen Aid mixer.
Trying to stay calm. It's important not to make yourself feel worse, so I've been just as meticulous about my skin care routine. Last night was the closest I've been in twenty years to fall asleep with my makeup on. But I could hear my mother's voice in my head, informing me I'd get zits if I don't wash up right away. So I did it, scrubbed and slathered. My back still ached when I woke up this morning, but my skin looked fabulous.
Photo by me, of course. Kosh, the orange menace and Lizzy marveling at an empty closet.
One day till moving. We're in the homestretch, and you know it's bad if I'm using the word "homestretch" or any sports reference. All that's left to pack are half the books and all the little odds and ends that are driving me crazy.
Tackling mountains of stuff is a difficult experience. It's very different than previous moves when we were in our early, mid and late twenties. I've been trying to tell myself that it's perfectly normal- we're pushing forty, of course we've accumulated all these things, from books to kitchen equipment. And clothes. And shoes. But there's always some guilt attached to your worldly possessions. Mostly, because they are, well, so worldly, and one can't avoid thinking of all the places and people whose problems go far beyond the proper way to transport a Kitchen Aid mixer.
Trying to stay calm. It's important not to make yourself feel worse, so I've been just as meticulous about my skin care routine. Last night was the closest I've been in twenty years to fall asleep with my makeup on. But I could hear my mother's voice in my head, informing me I'd get zits if I don't wash up right away. So I did it, scrubbed and slathered. My back still ached when I woke up this morning, but my skin looked fabulous.
Photo by me, of course. Kosh, the orange menace and Lizzy marveling at an empty closet.
The idea of moving gives me hives. Best case scenario is that I move what I really want into a small van and then my place is hit my a small meteor which vaporises the rest giving me a handsome insurance check without letting the neighbors see the sad state of my sofa. Don't see that happening any time soon.
ReplyDeleteLove the pic of the cats: I remember moving house with my roommate In Wisconsin and having the same thing happen; the cat looked at me like "you mean all this time I could have perched up here if only you'd only removed your crap? Jeesh!"
You've been making me laugh (and cry) with your saga of "The Move" as we went through it a year ago. I still have vivid memories of setting off in my car which was packed to the roof with my precious perfumes ('cos I couldn't bear to trust the removal men not to break anything) and our precious pussies. The whole thing was compounded by the fact that we had been let down at the very last minute by the people we were to rent from and had to find emergency accommodation that would take us AND the two kitties - not easy! We ended up in a holiday let for three weeks, but at least I had all my familiar smells with me, and our felines (who got us through all the stress by making us smile). So here's to Symba (Liability Lynx) and Casper (His Imperial Fluffiness), and to all your beloved brood. Good luck and no breakages to you! Jillie
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