There are things in this world that I am not particularly keen on doing. Among these things are actions such as sky diving, public speaking, and running a marathon. Chances are you will not see me doing any of these things, at least not without a gold-plated reason.
Add to this list: moving.
The main reason my husband and I are still living in the house we bought 15 years ago is that we do not want to box up our crap and move. When we bought our house 15 years ago, we moved from an apartment that was decidedly smaller. In the house, we had whole rooms with nary a stick of furniture in them for a good bit of time. We used lawn chairs in the living room. It was a newlyweds’ dream.
Over the years I/we have filled the house with assorted furnishings, hung pictures, replaced carpets, and so forth. Our house is now full. Occasionally I go on a tear and box up a bunch of unused stuff and donate it, but beyond that we are done. And it ain’t going anywhere.
No one ever said anything about not moving my office.
Which is exactly what I have spent the past week(plus) doing.
I do not like moving. Have I said that already?
I am a stay-put kind of person. I like to settle in. All my stuff has a place to live, I know where it is, and I can lay my hand on it whenever I need it. (Mostly.) I like not having to think about the location of my sunglasses, my car keys, or my purse, which frees my mind to try and keep track of all the other stuff I have to deal with, abstract things like appointments and errands. You want to really mess me up? Move my stuff from its’ usual location and ask me to try and function. Can’t be done.
So when my boss decided to downsize our latest digs, I was less than enthusiastic. Moving meant having to box up the contents of my desk, including the active work that resided on top of it, packing away my books, and in general dismantling the structure of the office I had occupied for three years. I was comfy there.
Not to mention the fact that moving means a lot of liftin’ and totin’.
We had help with the big stuff, the desks and file cabinets and stuff like that, but everything else we loaded and moved ourselves — all the chairs and tables and pictures, loaded into our SUVs and hauled ourselves. And moving forces you to deal with the stuff that you’ve shoved aside in closets. There were many trips to the recycler.
I came home many nights with sore muscles and aching feet. I ate like a horse, slept like a rock.
And then of course once we got to the new place, there was the matter of figuring out where to put everything, particularly since we have less space than before. Which has begat more trips to the recycler.
And also, I had committed to throwing a Halloween party during this time period. So I had to make party food, organize games, and clean my own house. There is/was not enough space in my brain for all of it.
I have lost my sunglasses, important paperwork, bills that needed to be paid, and my mind.
I have tried to be patient and positive about this move but so far my pessimistic nature has won out.
The bright spot? I am two blocks from my massage therapist.
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