If I had a hammer, I'd hammer ... maybe. But not so much in the morning
There are boxes everywhere, boxes coming out of our ears, and yet somehow we have emptied large portions of the house. I meant to get farther along tonight than I did, but I just ... couldn't face it. I packed a bit, I got rid of a bunch of paperwork, I shredded some of the HUGE bag of old paperwork that I have been avoiding. So I was doing work that I've been avoiding, to avoid work I don't want to do. Win?
Scott has been working his tail off filling up the pod that was delivered on Friday. There was some doubt for awhile if we'd be able to get one, as we thought we'd need a permit, and getting a permit cost a LOT of money, which negates the cost benefit of getting a pod to begin with. But it looks like our street here is technically owned by the fire dept, so it's a private road, and we didn't need a permit after all. Much to the disgust of our immediate right neighbors, I'm sure, as they now can't park obnoxiously in front of our house and nearly block our driveway. I say unto them, boo to the hoo. We spent a large portion of Sunday busting our tails packing things up - Scott bravely tackled the garage while our friend Stacey (Hi Stacey! Thanks again!) helped me pack the kitchen. Without her help I probably would have curled up in a ball and started muttering "why do we even have silverware? Why can't we eat with our fingers?" and rocked in a piteous manner. But with her help, lo, we are down to the plastic dishes that Lara (Hi Lara!) gave us last year that I just realized are not microwave safe. The rest are safely packed, including the china, vases, weird tall glasses of dubious nature, pitchers, candles, random kitchen gadgets, plastic swizzle sticks, plastic shot glasses (why do we even HAVE these?), and heavy glass bake ware. Sigh. The pod is nearly full, the house is mostly empty, and I am (sing it if you know it) never moving again. I say this every time I get to this point. It's probably not true. But it feels true. I really, really hate this part of packing: the kitchen and the closets and the bathroom stuff and the random crap. I'm always tempted to label these boxes "Random Crap. Why Do You Even Own This?" And yet at this point it's almost not worth it to sort and throw away. Bah. Deal with it later.
The schedule runs thusly: Tonight the packing and slacking. (Slacking would be me) Tomorrow night more packing and cleaning. Wednesday night the freaking out, packing and cleaning. Thursday we're both taking the day off to get the keys to the new place, move ourselves and the cats and small random boxes and clothes. (Also with the freaking out and cleaning, but hopefully no more packing.) Friday the movers come in the afternoon for the big stuff. Friday morning there will be cleaning at the old place and moving in at the new place, once the pod is delivered sometime Friday morning. Yes, I will be freaking out. But less so. Maybe. Friday afternoon or Saturday morning will probably be the carpet cleaners at the old place. Saturday morning there will be continued/finished cleaning at the old place, and then Saturday afternoon I will be unloading as much of the pod as I can.
Speaking of Saturday and unloading of pod, anyone who is local and available for a couple hours of moving things from the pod into the new place, please for the love of my back let me know. I'll probably send out an email asking for help, too, but you can just email or call me. I'm good with that. I will of course be providing pizza and beverages for any who can come help out, and I might be persuaded to not cry grateful tears on you. Maybe. Scott has a memorial for a friend's father to go to, and will be late joining us.
My hope is to go to the last Clarion party Friday night. We'll see how that plans out. If we do go, we'll be zombies. But zombies who are too tired to eat brains. How sad is that? I also wanted to go to Carrie Vaughn's reading at U books on Thursday, but I just don't think I can make that. (If you go, say hi from me.) I did not go to writing group tonight. I most likely will not be at dance class all week. Too much to do, not enough time or energy to do it in. And I'm so much less organized than I want to be. I only got through half of that damn shredding. I hate to move it with us, but I can't shred that pile and get all my other stuff done, too. So I guess we move the shredding. Teach me to get behind on home office work. Sigh. Tomorrow night there will be no slacking, dang it. Those closets will get packed. The boxes may indeed be labeled "Random Crap." I might have to beg some help from some people just to make it to Saturday. But we shall overcome our crap. Or at least move it.
Scott has been working his tail off filling up the pod that was delivered on Friday. There was some doubt for awhile if we'd be able to get one, as we thought we'd need a permit, and getting a permit cost a LOT of money, which negates the cost benefit of getting a pod to begin with. But it looks like our street here is technically owned by the fire dept, so it's a private road, and we didn't need a permit after all. Much to the disgust of our immediate right neighbors, I'm sure, as they now can't park obnoxiously in front of our house and nearly block our driveway. I say unto them, boo to the hoo. We spent a large portion of Sunday busting our tails packing things up - Scott bravely tackled the garage while our friend Stacey (Hi Stacey! Thanks again!) helped me pack the kitchen. Without her help I probably would have curled up in a ball and started muttering "why do we even have silverware? Why can't we eat with our fingers?" and rocked in a piteous manner. But with her help, lo, we are down to the plastic dishes that Lara (Hi Lara!) gave us last year that I just realized are not microwave safe. The rest are safely packed, including the china, vases, weird tall glasses of dubious nature, pitchers, candles, random kitchen gadgets, plastic swizzle sticks, plastic shot glasses (why do we even HAVE these?), and heavy glass bake ware. Sigh. The pod is nearly full, the house is mostly empty, and I am (sing it if you know it) never moving again. I say this every time I get to this point. It's probably not true. But it feels true. I really, really hate this part of packing: the kitchen and the closets and the bathroom stuff and the random crap. I'm always tempted to label these boxes "Random Crap. Why Do You Even Own This?" And yet at this point it's almost not worth it to sort and throw away. Bah. Deal with it later.
The schedule runs thusly: Tonight the packing and slacking. (Slacking would be me) Tomorrow night more packing and cleaning. Wednesday night the freaking out, packing and cleaning. Thursday we're both taking the day off to get the keys to the new place, move ourselves and the cats and small random boxes and clothes. (Also with the freaking out and cleaning, but hopefully no more packing.) Friday the movers come in the afternoon for the big stuff. Friday morning there will be cleaning at the old place and moving in at the new place, once the pod is delivered sometime Friday morning. Yes, I will be freaking out. But less so. Maybe. Friday afternoon or Saturday morning will probably be the carpet cleaners at the old place. Saturday morning there will be continued/finished cleaning at the old place, and then Saturday afternoon I will be unloading as much of the pod as I can.
Speaking of Saturday and unloading of pod, anyone who is local and available for a couple hours of moving things from the pod into the new place, please for the love of my back let me know. I'll probably send out an email asking for help, too, but you can just email or call me. I'm good with that. I will of course be providing pizza and beverages for any who can come help out, and I might be persuaded to not cry grateful tears on you. Maybe. Scott has a memorial for a friend's father to go to, and will be late joining us.
My hope is to go to the last Clarion party Friday night. We'll see how that plans out. If we do go, we'll be zombies. But zombies who are too tired to eat brains. How sad is that? I also wanted to go to Carrie Vaughn's reading at U books on Thursday, but I just don't think I can make that. (If you go, say hi from me.) I did not go to writing group tonight. I most likely will not be at dance class all week. Too much to do, not enough time or energy to do it in. And I'm so much less organized than I want to be. I only got through half of that damn shredding. I hate to move it with us, but I can't shred that pile and get all my other stuff done, too. So I guess we move the shredding. Teach me to get behind on home office work. Sigh. Tomorrow night there will be no slacking, dang it. Those closets will get packed. The boxes may indeed be labeled "Random Crap." I might have to beg some help from some people just to make it to Saturday. But we shall overcome our crap. Or at least move it.