But my annual moving habits do seem to follow a particular pattern. I start off all organized, with every box labeled, wrapped, and packaged perfectly, and then things deteriorate as my junk becomes more random, harder to sort, and randomly thrown into cardboard.
I also cannot write "fragile" on any box without hearing Old Man Parker from A Christmas Story, "Aaah! 'Fra-GEE-leh!' It must be Italian! "
Our challenge this month is a two-part move. I really can't afford to be paying rent here and mortgage on the new house, but the new house is not yet ready for move in. So we're moving everything out of the rental into my in-laws' place down the street . . . and will later relocate it all again to the new house. Ryan and his dad have been busting butt getting the place rewired in copper, redoing the electrical fixtures, etc. But the new walls/sheetrock still needs to go up, and the carpet needs to be replaced. It would be counter-productive to fill the house with boxes and have no room to work.
Sooo, I'm preparing to live out of a duffle bag for a bit and crash at our parents'. I sorted out most all of the baby clothes by age range, washed all the newborn to 3 month stuff, and split up the baby supplies into a newborn-keep-handy box and a can-wait-for-later box.
One of the surgeons I work with asked me the other morning, "So, how many more life-stressors do you want to throw in right now?" Oh boy. I'm not asking for anything more. Though honestly I do not feel stressed at all right now. Maybe I should. But I just don't. Our parents, families, and friends have been overwhelmingly generous and given us everything a kid could possibly ever need. And the more pregnancy stories I hear from other women make me appreciate that mine has been a cakewalk in comparison.
But . . . back to packing.