Monday, July 30, 2007

Stuff - Tia

Okay first off I want to say thanks to everyone who sent me birthday love. It really meant a lot to me, despite how long it took me to say so. I have just been up to my eyeballs in packing materials. Which is the perfect segue to:

The Moving Chronicles or Escape from L.A.
So I pretty much HATE packing and moving. I moved around a lot as a child but I never really had to pack. My mother would pack all of our stuff for us and then unpack it when we got to wherever we were going. I don't even really remember packing when I was old enough to help. I probably blocked it out or something.

You would think with all of the moving that I did I would have picked up some pointers regardless of whether I helped or not. Not so much. I have some deficiencies that are horribly inconvenient when it comes to chores like packing. For instance, I have no concept of time. I can never gauge how much time has passed or how long something should take. Prime example, someone asked me when I had lasik and I truly can not remember a definitive time. I know it's been within the last 3 years but I would have to look at a calendar to find the exact year. You would think that I would remember the EXACT month, day and SECOND someone put a laser on my eye. But not so much. So having no concept of time means that things that I think I have enough time to do (i.e. pack) I really don't. So I spend every waking moment trying to catch up. And the denial I was in about how much stuff I had didn't help. More on that in a moment.

Another thing that makes moving problematic is my attachment to my stuff. There were times in my numerous moves growing up that a lot of really important things were lost. (Random aside: the fire alarm is beeping at irregular intervals, which is the BEST thing for my frazzled premenstrual nerves right now.) Anyway, because things that were very important to me were lost in the moves, I now have an attachment to my stuff that's probably a bit unhealthy. I like to keep everything close by so that I can control it. (We will talk about my Monica Geller control issues in another post.) So not wanting to get rid of anything means I have to pack EVERYTHING.

I really do try to get rid of things. I'd like to give them to Goodwill or something. But it's really hard to let go. I want it all. I love my cheesy blue shirt that says 70's funk in fuzzy stick on letters even though I can't remember the last time I wore it. And even though my tacky blue V-tech phone doesn't match anything I plan to have in my house, I still want it. And that is why I have a ZILLION boxes of crap that I will probably end up throwing away when I get them out of storage.

And can we talk about how much denial I was in up until about Saturday. I was seriously avoiding how much stuff I had that still needed to be packed, given away and sold. And then it all hit me this morning when my eyes popped open and I realized that all my stuff had to be ready to go on the truck by Wednesday, Thursday at the ABSOLUTE latest. And I'm not hardly done. Jesus be a time manager.

In fact, let me stop typing and finish packing.

Laters

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