My life has been consumed by boxes, neatly numbered with red stickers and vague descriptions of the contents. Most of those boxes are labeled “books” which is not helpful at all when you realize some of the contents include clothes, my jewelry box, stuffed animals, and random bits of this and that. It took me 5 days to find my shoes, which were very much needed as all of the flip flops and sandals I’d packed in my suitcases were no good to me here on chilly, rainy days.
Despite our best efforts, we didn’t clear out our house pre-move as well as we had thought. Witness Exhibit A:
If that isn’t compelling enough evidence to the disorganized, discombobulated and just downright desperate-to-finish-getting-ready state of our minds, I present you with Exhibit B:
Yes, that’s as it came out of the box. Insanity, I tell you.
And just in case you were wondering (and don’t tell me you weren’t! I know how fascinating this is), our inventory of boxes/bikes/chairs/tables, etc. numbered 206. As of right now, 2 weeks after all of our things arrived, we have unpacked, er, approximately 12. Maybe 13. Witness Exhibit C:
All right, so maybe it was a tiny exaggeration. I’m sure we’ve gotten through more than 12 boxes, but even so: Stuff. Everywhere.
And I want to get back to this, right now: