Moving and Me

I have discovered over the past few weeks that I don't really get along with the whole moving process. For those of you who know me well, you know how much of a clean freak I am (probably too much sometimes). Combine that with a small living space, lots of boxes, and junk everywhere, and then connect the dots. The end result is a picture of me with my hands over my face and frazzled fro-ish hair. If only life were like living at the Burrow with the Weasleys and Mrs. Weasley was around to just flick her wand and put everything into its place (sorry, I couldn't resist the Harry Potter reference). Unfortunately, it's not like that, and I am stuck coming home every night to more boxes and more junk that needs a box. I have always been the exact opposite of a pack rat, and now is definitely the time for my true colors to shine. If there's no use for it, it goes in the garbage or the Goodwill garbage bag. I think I am actually influencing Melissa a little bit because she was throwing stuff away the other night, and she is definitely a pack rat.

To help me through this trying time, I just remind myself that it will all be over in a month, and then I remember that we may be doing it all over again next summer. And with that, I dive into depression once again with visions of boxes dancing in my head.