Let the pack-a-palooza begin!
Well here it is August and I'm no closer to being ready to move across the country than I was at roughly this time last year. Only difference is the miles and miles of internet research I've done concerning places to maybe end up living in, how to get there, where to find packing materials and (egad) how much this whole nonsense is going to cost. Welcome to my new mantra: it's tax-deductible, it's tax-deductible...But yeah, it's August. Let's take a lil' tour around the place, shall we? Bookcases. No problem. Those lift and move easy and we won't be taking ALLL of them. Beds. No problem. Standard issue. Gotta' happen. Dressers. Crap, those look heavy. No worries.
We can do it.
Ancient family heirloom mirror that resembles (in a mid-west lutheran kind of way) the Mirror of Erised.
Pardon me whilest I breathe into a paper bag.
Ah fretting. I've missed you.
What to do about that mirror? Probably move it back to my parent's place. Guh. And the needlepoint that the good doctor hates. As long as I don't open the box, I can give the secret stash of lego toys to my neighbor kids. Sorry, kids, they're dusty as hell.
I am NOT leaving town without my beloved new dining table. Kitchen table can stay. Right? Don't need two in a 2br apartment. Right. Vases. Marching proudly across the top of my kitchen cabinets with darling and shiny precision... okay okay, those stay too. I'll just bring like, two.
Dishes: Ye gods we have a lot of dishes. (where'd I put that paper bag again?) A lot of those fancy-ass wine glasses gotta' go. I love them. I'm leaving them. Those kitchy old upsidedown sevenup glasses too. (there's my inner 15year old crying again). No sweetheart. Their time is passed. I'm not my stuff. I can do this.
Hmmm.. What next? What's that? In my closet? That groaning zombie noise we hear? Oh yes, that's my wardrobe. It's largely old, ill-fitting stuff that often is older than my house which was built in what - 2003? ish? yeah. Shoes = fine. I have a fine collection of shoes. The rest of it - ooph. There's no damn way I can wear that in public anywhere but here. Right? DC area? Cowgirl jeans? from 10 years ago? prolly not, hunh?
Let's close the door on that little horror show for now, okay? I just... I can't deal with that right now.
What's left then? oh yes. Everything else. Brickabrack. Plants. Books. Movies. Games. Desks and desk chairs. Shelves. Jewellery. Cabinets. Drawers.... the recliner AND the swivel chair that I'm still secretly hoping we can get re-upholstered....
I'm going to need a new paper bag...
And our beloved artworks... the bathroom full of road signs... that four-foot-long poster of the mountains... the kite.... the masks... the calligraphy...
And then the cleaning. The cleaning? (ooh, my inner 25year old just shrieked rather sharply and put something very sharp in my left eyeball.)
I feel a little....
..........*.............**............woozy... I think I need to....