It's 10:30 p.m. and really, I shouldn't even have paused from packing up my condo to check my email. But I did. And then I started making the rounds on all the random websites I look at and ended up here. My own blog. Where I noticed that someone (ahem, Jenn) is getting pretty antsy waiting for me to update the world on the happenings of my life outside of checking out stuffed mountain goats. I'm not making any promises for excitement in this one.
Tomorrow I'm renting a Budget truck (16 feet long! I'm a trucker! I'm going to strictly fill up at truck stops and maybe even shower there. Or at least buy a few lotto tickets). Anyway, so I'm renting this truck to take the massive amount of stuff I have managed to accumulate during my time in Atlanta and dump it back in the basement of my parents' home. That's right. I'm moving home at the age of 26. I'm not going to dwell on that for long right now. I'm sure it will come up later.
Moving sucks. I mean seriously, there is nothing fun about it. I have spent hours trying to organize boxes according to where they go in my home. "Beauty products," "Towels," "Pots and Pans" - you get the picture. But now I'm to the last ones and the box I just packed was labeled "Curlers, blue fruit bowl, make up organizer, Christmas tree cookie pan, hair dryer parts, can opener." That is not a lie. I can't believe I have a box labeled that. I don't know if I'll be able to sleep at night with the thought of my can opener being in the box with my curlers.
There is one fun part of moving. Well, it's probably not fun for everyone, but I've come to enjoy it. Box hunting. I consider this a sport. Boxes are not easy to come by and I absolutely refuse to spend a penny on any cardboard box that someone else would just throw out. And so, I have gone on an epic search around Atlanta over the course of the past three days, hunting for boxes. Mostly at liquor stores. And wow, have I found them. Today,at lunch, my friends Chris and Sarah accompanied me on the box hunt and I have to say, I was pretty proud of our finds. Chris kept talking about how we were in his "territory" and how we were going to "hit the jackpot" at one particular liquor store. I'm not sure what all of this meant, but it certainly made lunch hour more exciting.
I now have enough Corona, Jack Daniels, Smirnoff and Sutter Home boxes in my living room that a person could get a hangover just looking at it. Which is precisely what I think I'm going to feel like in the morning when I realize it all has to be loaded... and then unloaded onto my truck. On that note, I'm back to packing.
1 comment:
Here's the essential difference between us:
I would have NEVER been able to actually tape up the box and label it with that myriad of objects. I think it would have killed me, let alone caused me to lose sleep. You saw my packing job for a week in london. Sweaters in pillow cases. I am sick.
But - in any case, I admire your efforts and I really think you should hire some strapping young men (perhaps with accents) to do the heavy lifting.
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