I read this post and had a good laugh over the fact that, though almost two years ago, this post prefaces the huge change my life was about to go through. And though I didn't know it at the time, I was being prepared. I'm glad I haven't lost my sense of humor.
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(August 2008)
To my credit, I have a better attitude than I did last time around. The two years prior to that, I'd moved four times. I don't recommend it unless you're fixated on getting rid of crap that you can't seem to bring yourself to get rid of until you actually HAVE to and by then everyone knows it's just because you have to move it anyway.
For hauling the large furniture, I called in the big guns. And by big guns, I mean my 20-year-old sister.
Little brother committed to help, only to back out due to wisdom teeth surgery. What an eye-roller. When I had mine pulled, I took a nap and woke up with no numbness or pain. However, I've since been told that I 'scar very nicely' which now that you mention it, sorta makes me wish I'd been more into contact sports. Back to Kyle: the drugs made him loopy. He asked where he was (the recovery room) then wanted to know where President Bush was (the next room over, they said) and he responded with NOOOO, HE'S AT THE OLYMPICS. He sang a chorus of DUUUN-DUN-DUN-DUN-DUUUNNNN-DUNNNN which we're assuming was the Olympic theme song, due mostly to his enthusiastic fist pumps.
Mom captured it on video, sent it to the rest of us. I have nothing else to say except that on that day, Kyle's Christmas Letter paragraph single-handedly wrote itself.
But I was telling you about my exciting move.
Cassie bought a house and has spent the last month doing renovations. As we all know, these things take longer than expected. I moved into a bedroom with no door, the bathroom in pieces (the basement one is functional but it's a God-forsaken shade of pink - aaaand, little spiders live there), a kitchen nearly tiled & grouted but not enough for the sink and stove to be in place so they're sitting on the back patio, plastic covering the floors where the walls are being painted or stripped, and a huge ladder propped over the stairs. Every morning it's like summer camp all over again, wearing flip-flops to the shower with my towel around my neck. Except instead of being a scrawny 10-year-old giggling because the boys' counselor made them stand outside our cabin and sing "Girls, You Are More Precious Than Silver", I'm a grumpy 22-year-old who talks to herself until she gets her morning coffee. And who has way too many shoes.
There are no curtains on my windows. Which means the neighbors have been flashed approximately 12 times since I moved in. Good for them. They'll have to live with it until I go to IKEA.
For a while there, I was a tidy individual. Never in one place long enough to warrant piles of stuff and half an inch of dust. This time around, the dust wasn't quite that heavy but the piles were definitely there. Thankfully I paced myself in preparation, allowing a day to haul the big stuff and then moving the rest of my crap over the course of several evenings, given my work schedule. It's a good thing I don't have a life, I guarantee you all this would've proven quite the chore.
Try moving your livelihood from one house to another, cleaning both, working a full week, living out of boxes, occasionally sleeping on the floor, maintaining good hygiene, and all on a diet of cheerios and amaretto sours. (Don't judge me, it's all I had available.) I justify my absence from the gym by claiming that packing & hauling four carloads of crap is enough of a workout.
Sunday evening in the midst of the melee, we went furniture shopping. Currently there exists a mish-mash of random chairs and shelves that make us look like a legitimate college frat house. Being style-minded women (or maybe just women?), a living space that looks and feels like home, is right up there with eating chocolate and talking about our feelings. We strolled through Furniture Row, trying out sofas of all shapes and sizes. We rated them based on comfortability, easy of maintenance, etc. Consensus is that deeper is better, more room to MAKE OUT WITH BOYS. We settled on red, because it's bold and girly and chances are low that it'd be stolen by college guys, were any to break in.
Obviously.
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