Boy, is moving the worst or what? About a week ago I was thinking, you know it'll be good to move. To get rid of some stuff, and explore a new area out here. But then I pulled down all of our cardboard boxes from storage. I taped up a couple boxes and started throwing things in. About 15 minutes in I remember oh yes, that's right, moving is the worst.
Thankfully, a cross country moves requires you to become more organized than you ever thought you would have to be, so I can count on my boxes being appropriately labeled for each room. We haven't accumulated too much "stuff" but we have acquired a new futon and a rocking chair (Thanks Dad and Debbie!). Oh and the outside table Ed built. And the potato plant frame. Hmm, maybe we have accumulated some stuff...
We live about a block from the Good Will and I anticipate dumping a huge amount of stuff over there. We've got some great quality things that we just never use. I'm even debating donating all my music books and DVDs... I love them dearly and do look at them every 6mo. or so... but does that make them worth lugging around? We've got at least two more moves ahead of us... possibly more. Moving just makes me want to shrug off all the stuff, pack a duffle bag and go. I never buy books anymore thanks to my Kindle and the library. I love books. I love the feel of books, but they just aren't practical to buy. There's no space for them. They are costly. They are damn heavy to move. Of course I'd be lost without a good library.
I would like to get a fancy version of Jane Eyre someday, and I already own Goodnight Opus and The Giving Tree for my future children... I don't need much more than that. And I'm not sure that the thinking of, 'maybe I'll hold onto it because I'll soon have a house to permanently store it in' will lead me to a non-cluttered, lean-home future. (This being the extreme ideal) ... (Or not quite as related, this woman. I'd quite like to be her and have that amazing garden - this particular blog post was hilarious)
Packing has also made me realize that I need to get wedding stuff done and shipped ASAP. Because, like so many other things, I decided to conveniently forget that the wedding is not on this coast. So alllllll this great stuff I've been working on needs to be packed and shipped by oh, let's say this week? *panic* I've been in full wedding mode for the past weekend and pretty much every day this week. I returned all my library books whether I had started them, was close to finishing or hadn't even cracked them, because let's be honest, I'm not getting any reading done from now until I take my first step off the plane onto Palm Island.
And working out? What's that? That doesn't happen around these parts anymore. On the bright side, I am hardly eating due to activities and stress. So it all balances out. Plus, I count watching the Olympics as mild exercise since I freak out when the competitions get tense - even when I have very little idea what's going on other than someone is close to glory or disaster.
Funny (and a little bit sad) story. In my exploring things to pack or toss, I found some at home waxing kits I had never been brave enough to try. Lord knows what overcame me but I decided I should test it out so I could hold onto them or trash them. So. I figured ok, let's try the leg. That skins gotta be pretty tough and simple to do. And it was simple. And honestly not all that painful. I think it's similar to the difference between the pain you feel when you brush out a knot in your hair. It is much more painful to have another person brush out the knot. So having myself rip off a waxed on strip wasn't too painful.
At first.
Because after that... it was immediately like Steve Carell in 40-Year-Old Virgin when he's walking home after the waxing incident. And that was pretty unnerving and very unsexy.
So. My verdict is that waxing anything is the worst and I'll just avoid that for the rest of my life. Don't think I'm missing out there.
