My move is neverending.
Reason one: banker's boxes. Aw, well, you know. I have weakness for the small-sized banker's box. The one that is constructed to hold files and papers and stack and last. The one that is one-third the size of a normal moving box. All of the boxes we had were banker size. We had maybe two boxes that were normal, moving-size.
This would explain the 100 trips up and down the stairs for each of us.
This would explain why there are still boxes left to bring over.
This would explain the sysiphus-ness of it all.
Note to fast-readers/skimmers: I did NOT say syphyllis. Did not.
Reason two: I'm not a spring chicken any longer. Summer chickens take longer to recuperate. Moving boxes up and down stairs becomes monumentally harder. See comment above about sysiphus-not-syphillis.
Reason three: Lazy. Ass.
Reason four: Ex.haust.ed. It's not even funny anymore how tired I am ALL THE TIME. I've started to wonder if it isn't just a case of mind over matter, but that matter is so. damn. heavy.
Reason four: banker's boxes. Again. For prosperity.
Reason five: Did not spring for hired movers.
Note to self: next time: hire movers.
Second note to self: get rid of half of everything said self owns.
2 comments:
It does seem to take forever... I've still got boxes of books unopened and I've been in since mid-December and that doesn't include the stuff I've left in the loft of the old house as I don't have anywhere to put it... My tardiness is mostly the lazy-ass excuse though (and the work one that you missed out).
Congrats on the new place though, the flickr-pics look lush :o))
Heh! You are SO still a spring chicken!
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