You know how- when you move- how you pack up all the stuff you won't need in the next couple weeks but leave out the stuff you will need? And then it's time to take care of those things you left out and instead of being "Kitchen" and "Living Room" it becomes two dishes, a pair of socks, a book, someone's long underwear and a toothbrush? This goes completely against my innate need for organization- not that you could tell I have this innate need if you saw my house half the time- but we won't go there.
I may go completely insane before this is said and done as I pick up the random toy, spoon, special drawing or painting.
"I already packed that box." and "When I said bring me all your toys, I really meant all your toys. Now this one has to go into a random box." Keeps coming out of my mouth.
It's not the children's fault- if I am so affected by the chaos of my environment, it's amazing they haven't reverted all the way back into primates with an added crazed gleam in their eyes. They check out- taking dogs for walks and hitting the library at least every other day and often every day. And then I discover the stash of thirty-plus library books in their rooms, on the table in the kitchen, on randoms shelves and we have to talk about the importance of having some form of order in the house and how I could use help instead of finding children reading in various nooks and crannies.
I finally was so frustrated yesterday that I took it out on the actual boxes with a big, fat, stinky-could-get-you-high marker. In big block letters I wrote "RANDOM SHIT BOX". The whole time I was thinking "Take that, you random crap I have to take- and that- and that!"
You see, I have purged pretty thoroughly and in the beginning there was a release and excitement around it and now, I am so tired I have developed some strange form of packing ADD and no longer is it exciting, it's confusing. I walk into the kitchen to get to work in there and something takes me into the living room (most likely putting something away) and I get distracted by the living room and on and on until the whole day is gone and some more things are packed or headed to Goodwill but not one room is really done, if you know what I mean.
This makes me realize that I have control issues around yet another part of life- my surroundings. In my warped reality, the house is neatly packed with pretty labels that read "Kitchen" and then a full list of every item in the box- or- better yet--- a-- wait for it--- color photo catalog pamphlet of what items are in each box. Can you say "control freak"??
Instead, I fit things into boxes and mark them "RANDOM SHIT BOX" and then put contents on the sides like "Slippers", "dumbbells", "Shut-Box board", "kid art" & "natural medicine guide"-- because none of that went into the original boxes when we did the first two phases of packing up.
The strangest part of all this- with living out of a gym/duffle bag and having very few belongings, is that life is simpler. There isn't this chronic race to maintain belongings and there is a feeling of freedom and it makes me wonder how many more things may end up donated once I get to my new home. But with limited truck space, I sincerely hope we can hone it down before we leave.....
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