I think I'd pack my head if it wasn't attached
I love moving. I do. It’s an adventure. A chance to decorate…and shop. But with moving comes packing. And I hate packing.
Have I mentioned how much I hate packing? If I haven’t said it enough times, I’ll say it again. I hate packing.
I mean…I really. Hate. Packing.
We’ve started the final countdown to moving day. And now that Mom is officially out of the woods with her illness, I can finally take a deep breath and get down to business. The business of…yep, you’ve got it…packing!
And there’s nothing like packing to unearth how much crap you actually own. And I don’t even mean the sort of crap you agonize over tossing out. I haven’t even gotten to that yet. I’m talking about the crap you really can’t bear to part with. The sentimental momentos like baby pictures, hand-knitted blankets made by Mom, the artwork from kindergarten, and other assorted items that don’t contribute to the day to day functions of life, but must be preserved, nonetheless.
And as far as the day to day items, I’ve already filled two huge boxes with linens. And these are just the linens we aren’t currently using. Those, I’ll worry about later. Like the clothes.
Until then, I’ve packed the heirloom china, and the everyday dishes, but I haven’t even touched the glassware. I discovered when we moved here that I have forty-two wine glasses. Forty-two! I don’t think I can drink forty-two glasses of wine by myself.
I can’t even get through one!
Maybe I’ll tackle the glasses tomorrow. Or maybe I’ll sort through the old magazines and DVDs and decide what’s going and what’s not. And hey, maybe I’ll even paint something.
It’s never too late to decorate…right?
Until the next time…I’ll be careful not to pack my head.