Move it

I should be packing. But, instead, I'm watching KLG and Hoda, checking my Facebook, and drinking a decaf latte I just picked up at Starbucks. Obviously, I'm in serious denial. Also, Sam is at preschool in case you were concerned that I'm being a negligent parent.

So, since I've got all this "free time," I thought I'd give you a quick update on the packing situation. I assumed you were probably checking your Google reader every few minutes in hopes that I'd post something. Wait, you weren't? Well, here's an update anyway.

I'm currently staring at my kitchen which looks like the delivery ramp at Wal-Mart. It's a sea of boxes and I'm tired of looking at it. It makes me sad. This whole week has been like one long, really slow band-aid removal. I want to rip it off already!

If you know me at all, you know that I have a tendency to get anxious when things are a little out of control. Moving is one of the contexts in which things are majorly out of my control and I start to daydream about running away to join the circus or a motorcycle gang. I've had heartburn all week, I've had a twitchy eyelid, I can't sleep, and I wake up before a sane person should even think about waking up. I'm falling apart, people.

And then, there's the ever-present POD looming in the driveway, daring us to fit all our stuff inside. I realize this is a first-world problem if there ever was one. But, I dreamed a dream that this portable storage unit would be the answer to all our moving prayers. And yet, it's unexpected smallish-ness is increasing my stress level, and this may or may not cause me to break out in a rash. This was supposed to be simple: get the POD, squeeze ALL our stuff in, send it off, reunite with it in a month or so. But, instead, the POD is mocking me with its promises to fit "three-four rooms, no problem" when in fact, it's probably only going to fit Sam's train collection and a chair. I exaggerate, but still, I'm concerned.

So, once I finish recounting my moving woes to you here, I'll get off this couch and start trolling the house again to figure out what needs to be mashed into a box with a bunch of other random stuff that I'm not sure why we haven't gotten rid of yet. Anybody need a bread machine?

Sigh.

And, yet, despite all this, in three days we'll be on our way. A new adventure. A new part of our story. A new everything. There's good in this, even in the midst of moving mania. There has to be.

Gotta go. KLG and Hoda are doing surprise makeovers.