We're moving. We'll talk about the whys and wheres later, but the point is, moving sucks. Please pardon the "s" word. Let's step back a minute.
I have never moved in my life. From the day I was born 'til the day I went to college I lived in the same house. I've done college moves, where you cram as much stuff as you can fit into your and/or your parents' cars and then unload it into a pile on the floor of your bedroom or your dorm room, but that's not the same. The last place Ben and I lived was a big house with lots of other people, and most of our belongings were in one room. We moved less than a mile away and took everything in our cars in just a couple of trips.
But this time... we've been living in our apartment for over three years -- we have furniture and dishes and lots of stuff, we're moving almost five hours away, we have to rent a truck, we have to actually pack, we have to figure out whether or not to change our residency from Massachusetts... oh, and we have a baby to make it all just a little bit trickier.
Packing is a pain, yes, but the worst part about it for me is that we can't just enjoy our final weeks here in this place we love. Instead we have to strip our photographs from the walls, load our books into boxes, try to sell the only washer and dryer that have ever cleaned our baby's clothes, and busy ourselves with moving tasks instead of simply living. I'm quite a sentimental person I guess (as if it's not glaringly obvious from this blog), so none of this is easy for me.
On top of all that, I have some serious hoarders in my bloodline and thus I've been battling the hoarding gene hard as I decide what to pack and what to throw away or donate. Maybe that's a topic for another day.
PS. I think snails have got a good system going.