So, I haven’t died in a horrible avalanche of boxes yet- but I’m still tripping over things in the dark and wondering where the hell I’m going to put the things I unpack.
It makes me wish I were less sentimental (read: Packrat). Although, I go through this every time I move and that should be often enough- 20 times in 12 years- to teach me. And yet, even as I’m writing this I’m in talks for Great Granny’s costume beads, and just said yes to taking a sewing machine off my mother’s hands. I can’t say no. I don’t want to say no. But what I need is all the energy to deal with the crap I already have. Or a maid. hm… maybe some Live In help… (I’ve been watching Mad Men nonstop for a week- it’s done something to my brain)
Some of the boxes I’ve been working through because I know they have things I need in it. Some I’ve been avoiding because they have more things that don’t have a home yet. And some are getting opened and abandoned as I look for one lonely item of necessity.
And yesterday with a Whoop of triumph, I unearthed my cheese grater… Instantly shared to facebook so my crazy friends who helped me pack could laugh and looked around at all the other boxes…sigh… I can’t think of anything else I need out of these… maybe I should just set them all on fire?