Moving makes my head hurt. I mean, moving from one house to another, packing and unpacking, hauling all the stuff around. With all the “paper work” – moving insurance, electricity, etc. agreements to the new address – and making the deposit payments, planning the actual moving, getting a truck or van of sorts, sorting out schedules… I get so stressed out I feel like bursting. And if that's not enough, this time we (i.e. my husband) need to redo the kitchen in the new house before moving in.
It's two weeks to the weekend when we're supposed to be moving to the new house. The girls came on Friday to stay with us again (it goes fifty-fifty, every other week with us, every other with their other parents). Next time they come here after this week, it's time to be hauling stuff to the new home. No other activities, no procrastinating, full blown work for everybody.
Before that, this house we're moving out of obviously needs to be packed up. The amount of stuff we have! Just the thought of it overwhelms me and makes me just want to bury my head in the sand like an ostrich. This weekend has been (well, it's only Sunday morning now, so I have a day of packing still ahead of me) dedicated to packing up the kids' rooms. Two of them, anyway.
Yesterday I worked my ass off for six hours strainght, only taking a break to take the dogs out for a fifteen minute walk and having a rye sandwich. I got probably 3/4 of the two youngest girls' rooms done. They did their fair share going through their stuff with me, hauling trash out, sorting through their clothes etc. A whole lot of garbage (worn out too small clothes, broken toys, this and thats etc.) and several bags to be taken to the second hand stores.
I made the executive decision, that all the toys like Littlest Pet Shops, Bratz stuff and so on, will be put away. They don't play with them anymore, it just takes space in their rooms. I put it all in a box and I'll try to sell them after moving, now I don't have the energy to do that. Legos, GeoMags and board games are staying, or rather coming with us to the new home.
Oldest daughter has been away all weekend, out at the stables yesterday, overnighting at a friend's house and today she's being the personal assistant of her friend in a riding competition. Her room is probably the easiest one to pack in the whole house – she's the only one who doesn't hoard stuff and puts away anything she doesn't need instead of just storing it somewhere – and she is fully capable of doing the whole thing by herself in probably less than two hours.
Next weekend, when the kids are gone, we'll start on everything else in the house. Probably I'll do something about my stuff upstairs already today. It seems like an endless job, like we'll never be able to make. I feel like that every time I move, and it's been way too many times during the past 10 years. I know it always happens – there's really no other choice, so one way or the other, things are moved from one place to the other when it's time. But still. Desperation creeps in.
Just need to do a task at a time. I. Hate. Moving.
The reward in the end will be a more affordable house with a bit more privacy, a big yard, a patch of forest right at the edge of the yard, a couple apple trees, a wood stove sauna, enough space for all of us if not as much as here in the old home. This one is a newish house, with modern interiors and all the commodities. Our new home is an old house from the fifties, practically in its original state. It's got something to it, though. Some sort of homeliness and cozyness. It's got character. But it needs (quite) a bit of renovating here and there, the kitchen being the first thing on our list.
Oh well, back to the packing.