Moving Day Eve
I am tired. Like I-could-pass-out-right-here-on-the-couch-and-not-wake-up-until-tomorrow-night tired. For the last few weeks, my days have been filled with packing, church work (at two different churches), sitting in the hospital waiting room (my sweet daddy had bypass surgery last week), and more packing. I have done more cleaning in the past 24 hours than I have in the past 24 weeks, which probably says more about my housekeeping skills and less about how busy my day was. But I am looking around at my apartment, piled high with boxes and littered with an assortment of books, shoes, and mail, and I don't wonder if I will get it all done. I know it will get done. It has to get done. We have to turn in our keys on Friday afternoon, and they expect for all of our belongings to be gone. The question is, will I break down and throw a huge crying fit and who will be harmed in the process. I guess that is two questions. But there they are.
I should be a moving expert, really. I have had 27 different residences in my 34 years of life, if you count the three different travel trailers (used while we were missionaries), one mobile home (also while we were missionaries), and the four different dorm rooms for each year of college. And each time I move, I envision something that never comes to pass. I envision myself the night before the move with a clean house (except for neatly stacked boxes) and an early bedtime. And this vision has never, ever come to pass. Not once. And really, I don't know what I'm doing wrong. I do start early. I started packing two boxes a day a month ago. And according to that plan, I should have been in bed hours ago, knowing that my things were securely packed and my house was white glove clean. But here I sit on the small corner of my bed that is free of clothes and magazines, typing this blog and praying that I am able to function tomorrow on the few hours of sleep I will get.
One of these days I will figure it out. I feel like each move I get a little closer to perfecting the art, and maybe one day my vision will become reality. But like I said, it will all get done. I will move tomorrow, and I will not leave anything behind (although one time I did purposely leave behind a washer and dryer that were too old to be worth moving). Today the new apartments painted a green accent wall in our living room, and I changed my address on the US Postal Service website. I spent exactly 48 minutes on the phone with AT&T to get my internet service switched over. My refrigerator, freezer, and oven are all sparkling clean (and seriously, I am going to learn to clean those things more often in this next apartment). I have double checked every drawer and cabinet to prevent the "Oh my goodness, where the heck am I going to put all of this stuff?" reaction that I usually have when I come across a cabinet that I am certain I had already cleaned out. In the morning, I will wake up and I will clean baseboards and scrub bathroom floors like there is no tomorrow, even though there most likely will be. Although, let me assure you of this, if there is no Friday, I will be super mad that I did all of that cleaning and packing for nothing. And you should be watching for that fit and careful of your proximity to it.
I should be a moving expert, really. I have had 27 different residences in my 34 years of life, if you count the three different travel trailers (used while we were missionaries), one mobile home (also while we were missionaries), and the four different dorm rooms for each year of college. And each time I move, I envision something that never comes to pass. I envision myself the night before the move with a clean house (except for neatly stacked boxes) and an early bedtime. And this vision has never, ever come to pass. Not once. And really, I don't know what I'm doing wrong. I do start early. I started packing two boxes a day a month ago. And according to that plan, I should have been in bed hours ago, knowing that my things were securely packed and my house was white glove clean. But here I sit on the small corner of my bed that is free of clothes and magazines, typing this blog and praying that I am able to function tomorrow on the few hours of sleep I will get.
One of these days I will figure it out. I feel like each move I get a little closer to perfecting the art, and maybe one day my vision will become reality. But like I said, it will all get done. I will move tomorrow, and I will not leave anything behind (although one time I did purposely leave behind a washer and dryer that were too old to be worth moving). Today the new apartments painted a green accent wall in our living room, and I changed my address on the US Postal Service website. I spent exactly 48 minutes on the phone with AT&T to get my internet service switched over. My refrigerator, freezer, and oven are all sparkling clean (and seriously, I am going to learn to clean those things more often in this next apartment). I have double checked every drawer and cabinet to prevent the "Oh my goodness, where the heck am I going to put all of this stuff?" reaction that I usually have when I come across a cabinet that I am certain I had already cleaned out. In the morning, I will wake up and I will clean baseboards and scrub bathroom floors like there is no tomorrow, even though there most likely will be. Although, let me assure you of this, if there is no Friday, I will be super mad that I did all of that cleaning and packing for nothing. And you should be watching for that fit and careful of your proximity to it.
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