I’m committed to stop chasing my tail and start packing.
Less than a week to go. Fear is a great motivator.
This weekend was a really product weekend for packing. The kitchen, bathroom, and dresser are all 95% packed; I’m just keeping out the necessities. Last week I collected some great packing advice from you and I have a few tips of my own to share.
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It’s getting a little odd.
Next week should be really interesting.
I refuse to buy more food until I go. There’s enough in my freezer to feed a small African village me for months. Not to mention all the going away dinners and lunches. No way do I need to go shopping. But look out, Whole Foods San Diego.
As such, there are no real recipes. There are concoctions, favorites from local spots, and dinners with my family (you know that always gets strange). Because when your house looks like this, everything is a little strange… but oh, so good.
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Is there such a thing as a moving consultant?
I need to be project planned.
In my “normal” life I’m pretty organized. I’m structured. I have a routine and I like it. Some might call me Type A (though you wouldn’t know it from the past couple months… I blame Vegas).
Anytime I move it’s a whole new story. I turn into a Jack Russell puppy chasing it’s tail. I have bubble wrap everywhere. Piles of shit I have no idea what to do with. Empty boxes. Boxes that are 75% full… but that I can’t seal because I’m looking for little odds and ends I can cram it the remaining 25% (you know those odd spaces that need to be stuffed by nothing really fit in?).
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It just got real.
Logically I knew it was real… but reality never ceases to shock me.
You make plans and get excited. You know it’s coming and it can’t get here fast enough. But when it ACTUALLY manifests… it’s still a reality check.
Road food is also a reality check. That red velvet Blizzard did not suck though.
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