How Do You Spell Relief?I spell it "getting the hell out of my old house".
Today, I spent the afternoon boxing up the last remaining vestiges of my belongings at the old house. Then I carted it up from the basement, down from the second floor, and out to the car. My wonderful friend COT (initials) who for some bizarre reason eagerly volunteers to help friends move, met me around the time I was bringing down the upstairs stuff and helped me pack the Mothership.
I cannot believe that we got almost every last box in the car.
There is still about a half a car's worth of boxes and bags, and some stuff in the garage (lawnmower, garden tools barely used LOL) and then the rest is trash.
OMG. So it took me one moving van with mover guys, one UHaul (the smallest with a ramp), several car loads, and at least one more pickup truck bed full of garage stuff to get all my belongings down to the childhood home.
I'm sorry. That is just TOO MUCH STUFF. I mean, when I moved to LA back in 1989, I could fit all my worldly possessions PLUS those of the drummer who moved with me in the back of a 1989 hatchback Mustang. When I moved back to Ohio in late 1990, several boxes were shipped home, and Dad and the cat and I took a loaded Mustang down the southern route (so we could stop in Arizona to visit Dad's relatives) then up through St. Louis to home.
But I feel so relieved. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. By next week, that sucker will be on the market and soon it will be a memory. *SIGH* One down. One to go. I imagine I'll be spending the summer sorting through all the boxes, but at least they'll all be in one place. Then I can have a Pitch Party and minimize a bit. I mean, good grief. From the basement came a bunch of hanging garments with an index card attached:
Size 14. Look over on June 23, 2004.
Um, I think I might have just missed that deadline. And, no, I'm still nowhere near being a 14 again—yet.
Labels: boring household crap