I have begun packing in earnest. I wish I could be profound. I’m actually aching to write a profound blog post, but all I can think about is getting all this stuff in boxes before the week’s end.
And, for a change of pace, I’m not being sarcastic.
My siblings and I like to joke that we have more gypsy in us than anyone realizes. Our entire family gets abnormally excited about moves. Most people view it as a necessary evil. Few look at it as a positive event in and of itself. Even fewer really love and truly look forward to moving to a brand new place.
You know why I think I adore it so much? I think it’s the opportunity to create order from chaos on a grand scale. Moving is nothing if not chaotic, and I feel my most fulfilled when I’m “fixing” things. At some point, I can look forward to our entire apartment looking like this:
And then, shortly thereafter, we’ll be in a nice little house (which I will get to organize). With no exploding pipes, or moldy ceilings, or vandals, or people on the other side of the wall. With our very own washer and dryer. And a driveway that goes right up to the side door. And a new job.
So, I guess what I’m trying to say is that it’s exciting now, and it will continue to be exciting, even after all the chaos has been tamed. That is a rare treat, and one I do not take lightly.
Unfortunately, the cat does not share my enthusiasm for moving and has retreated to the basket. NOT a happy camper.