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Oct. 30th, 2006 12:03 amWe're at the stage of moving where you can see the end in sight, but somehow the mound of random, useless things standing in your way makes it seem very, very far away. We started out packing things in an organized fashion, packing like with like and making sure that each box contained things destined for the same room. But all those boxes are gone, along with the furniture, and we're left with 1), the things we need to keep with us until we move for good, 2), things that were hiding in closets, the attic and the garage and 3), the useless crap we found when we were frantically clearing off tables and bookcases so they could get moved and the even more useless crap we found under the furniture when we moved it, hanging out with the twelve million pens, dust elephants and dead bugs.
This is the stage where you begin contemplating simply burning everything you own and starting over with a simpler, more monastic existence. A few years ago when we were moving, we saw a comedienne's routine on Comedy Central who captured it perfectly: "You start out packing by taking down a glass, wrapping it carefully and putting it in a box you label 'Glasses.' By the end, you're throwing in anything - vases, clothes, the cat - and label it 'CRAP I DON'T NEED. I HATE MY CRAP!'" Yeah, that. I wish I could remember her name - she was brilliant.
On the postive side, it looks that everything we want to fit in the main part of the new house will fit, and there's lots of storage room for everything else. The new house is small, but adequate for two or three months. I realized the other day that it would be a great house if only:
A) We didn't have a baby; or
B) we didn't own books; or
C) want to be able to have people over for dinner or have them visit for a weekend; or
D) the basement was finished; or
E) there was a full attic
But in the absence of all of those things, it's falling into the category of "Too small for the long-term, but not too bad for a temporary living situation."
This is the stage where you begin contemplating simply burning everything you own and starting over with a simpler, more monastic existence. A few years ago when we were moving, we saw a comedienne's routine on Comedy Central who captured it perfectly: "You start out packing by taking down a glass, wrapping it carefully and putting it in a box you label 'Glasses.' By the end, you're throwing in anything - vases, clothes, the cat - and label it 'CRAP I DON'T NEED. I HATE MY CRAP!'" Yeah, that. I wish I could remember her name - she was brilliant.
On the postive side, it looks that everything we want to fit in the main part of the new house will fit, and there's lots of storage room for everything else. The new house is small, but adequate for two or three months. I realized the other day that it would be a great house if only:
A) We didn't have a baby; or
B) we didn't own books; or
C) want to be able to have people over for dinner or have them visit for a weekend; or
D) the basement was finished; or
E) there was a full attic
But in the absence of all of those things, it's falling into the category of "Too small for the long-term, but not too bad for a temporary living situation."
