If ever there were something I didn't want to do often, it's move. My husband and I have almost completed a move .5 miles away from our apartment at the boarding school where we work into a bigger school apartment.
A bigger apartment in a dorm full of 30 teenage boys.
But more about that another day; I'm sure dorm life will provide endless fodder for blogging.
Moving sucks.
No matter how hard you try to start "early," the last day is always filled with rushed packing that consists of throwing everything left in a room in a box and labeling it "misc" (the full word is way too impossible for someone in the final hours of packing to spell correctly).
No matter how much you've worked on learning how to fight nicely with your spouse, the bitchy side of you can't seem to stay put. My poor husband has been moving boxes and furniture for days in the heat in hopes of reducing the cost of the movers, and I've felt the need to tell him to change his sweaty shirt many times. Now that's Saturday and I have a Smirnoff Ice Mango, I don't really see why I felt the need to comment on his shirt so much. But the sweet thing is, he didn't nag back at me. He just kept his sweaty shirt on and kept moving boxes.
Now that we're here, and 98% of our belongings are with us, I'm starting to feel human again.
Next project: throwing out/yard sale boxing 100 things. The list will be posted, of course. I promise I won't ditch any wedding presents, but I may ditch the leftover invitations....
1 comment:
I hear you about the MISC box, and it's often the last one to unpack too. Great idea about the 100 things! When I'm done with 21 days of exercise and 21 days of not using a credit card, I will embark on getting rid of 100 thing! (Or maybe 1 a day for 21 days, depending on how I feel). It really helps to have a spouse who doesn't bitch back...sometimes I want mine to...and he quietly resists, which makes me have to "use my big girl words." Go figure.
Post a Comment