Moving: the new adventure

First, we sold the furniture. My bed became this:



It was surprisingly cozy. I actually rather miss my little patch of floor.

Then we put everything into boxes, lots and lots of boxes, and even though it was only just a short period that I was going to be separated from it all (my books, my pencils, my SOCKS, that silly painted blue rose I got once), it was surprisingly hard to close the lid and tape it all up and away from myself. Make do with the minimum. I lost momentum and forgot to change my clothes for three days.

The boxes kept on piling up and up and up, into mountains and ranges and foothills of boxes, replete with riverine fans of STUFF that kept seeping back out as we unpacked and repacked and searched for lost items (can’t pack that last pan till the last dinner’s been made, best dig it out again; and get that wine back out. can’t lose the wine.) And things kept abruptly dripping out of the shimmies and cubbyholes of the apartment, every time we thought we’d packed it all up. All the tupperware at the very back of the top shelf. The cleaning products we left out and forgot about. THE WINE.

This is what our mountain looked like (I felt rather proud of it, in the end):



And then the mountain-movers came and packed every last piece of our mountain into their van, and I put my floor-bed into the last box and gave it away to them too, and my room looked like this, and felt rather sad and empty and abandoned:



Through it all, I felt excited and numb and adrenalized and surprisingly emotionless; it felt all remarkably unremarkable, somewhat trite and unexceptional. Comme ci comme ça. Another day in the life.

But now, as the boxes are beginning to melt away, as we haul out their innards and attempt (and re-attempt and then give up, and then have wine and then give it all another go) to get it all into working, functional order in cupboards and on shelves and in closets, the reality of the move is sinking in, and I’m EXHAUSTED. World-haltingly so. This isn’t even my move; it’s my mom’s and I’m here only to help, but the epic amount of work surrounding it, coupled with the knowledge that my fall-back home base has forever shifted, has played its role, and I am ready to sleep for a month.

Only I don’t have a month to sleep. I have a month to learn to love this town. It’s a brand new adventure here.