The Life We Packed

If you walked into my house right now, you’d notice a few things. Namely, the smell of cardboard, the sound of a tape gun, and the way The Cat’s face expresses supreme displeasure over having his house (his house!) upended yet again. If I had to give it words, those words would be “this better not be more cross-country fuckery because I swear to god, I will piss in your car.”

But you’d also notice that there are eleven packed boxes so far, which accounts for almost all of the books. Almost all of the books, because although I’ve moved house multiple times, even across the country, I never quite put together in my brain that boxes of books are easier to move if they weigh less, which means that you’re supposed to pack smaller boxes of half books and half other stuff.

I’m not the smartest person in the world but I do okay, so thankfully I have friends like Dylan and Rachel who have also made several cross-country moves and were able to set me straight.

I don’t actually mind packing as much as most people seem to; it’s easier for me since our house is so small, and as a person who likes making lists and diagrams, I find that I enjoy making order out of what looks to be (especially now that the house is turning itself inside out) chaos.

I’m very glad that Postmates is offering 25% off for Memorial Day weekend, which means that all I have to do tonight is have food delivered while I pack up my shit and listen to music (truly, how does anyone move without their friends, since Courtney recently music-swapped with me and thanks to her, I now know that Andrew Bird’s Bowl of Fire and Bearkat are the best artists for what is quite literally getting your life together).

We’ve got three weeks to go until our move date, which is just enough time to freak out that nothing will get done and more than enough time to have to really prioritize what you can live without for almost a month. Altogether, it’s a great way to tell the people you know to screw off, because you’re going to be busy sweating and cursing and finally rewarding yourself with a glass of wine on the couch instead of going out and having fun with them.

So far, this week will see the rest of the books, all of the tchotchke-type stuff, and half of the kitchen packed up. I’d also like to clean out the fridge, freezer, and food cabinets to get rid of the stuff I’ll never use (the last week we’re here, I will be eating up the freezer stuff I will use but don’t really want to schlep a few ZIP codes over…weird Greek meatballs and forgotten soups for everyone!).

If nothing else, this tiny, crappy house has reinforced the notion that people need far less stuff than is commonly thought, and that when it comes down to it, I would rather have room to move than things to fill the rooms I have. I can only make so many trips to IKEA for storage solutions, anyway, and already I hate myself for saying “storage solutions” like it’s a real thing that wasn’t taught to me by a catalog.

About erineph

I'm Erin. I have tattoos and more than one cat. I am an office drone, a music writer, and an erstwhile bartender. I am a cook in the bedroom and a whore in the kitchen. Things I enjoy include but are not limited to zombies, burritos, Cthulhu, Kurt Vonnegut, Keith Richards, accordions, perfumery, and wearing fat pants in the privacy of my own home.
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