Packing, Purging, and Panicking

Dear self,

You will survive this.  In two more weeks, you will be beyond this insanity one way or another….

Have you ever had simultaneous pity parties and pep rallies going on in your head?  You know, one moment you’ll be wallowing in the misery and impossibility of some daunting task, and in the next, you are your own best cheerleader?  That’s the reality I have been living for the last few weeks since my husband was offered a position to work remotely.   Our imminent move into a motorhome has become very real.

For one thing, until today, my husband worked for Disney.  About to forfeit our Disney perks and privileges, I felt the pressing need to visit each of the Disney World theme parks with our five children one more time.  In the course of one week, we loaded up the van and headed to the most magical place on Earth four times, having a plan in place for everybody to experience their favorite rides and attractions once more.  I returned twice again with my husband, who had been working during most of our Disney visits but also wanted to say a final farewell to his favorite parks.  So instead of packing, I ventured into the land of Mickey Mouse six times in eight days.  It was an exciting, albeit exhausting, week!  At the end of it, however, the packing was no further along than at the beginning.  Seriously- where are the packing fairies when you need them?  Sigh.

Packing stinks.  There is nothing fun about it unless you are like my friend Jacqui, who thrills to the notion of organizing her entire life neatly into boxes.  But to the sane segment of society, it’s no more fun than pulling out one’s toenails.  One by one.  Slowly.  And this type of move, downsizing from almost 4000 square feet to about 400 square feet, is the toughest I’ve ever faced.  Having moved seven times since marrying, I should have this down.  As long as everything gets thrown into a box in such a way that it arrives safely at its destination, it’s all good, right?  Ha!  I wish!  This time, we have to make decisions about every item in the house.  Is it worth saving?  If so, does it go with us, or should it be stored?  If not, should it become part of the estate sale, or is it better given to a friend who will appreciate it?

We aren’t even sure how long we will be gone.  So how can we know how much should be put into storage?  At some point, the cost of storing furniture tips the scale, and it becomes far more expensive to save things than the items are worth. Either way, we need to store sentimental possessions.

From time to time, I fantasize about my house burning down (while we are gone, of course).  Yes, it would be terrible on so many levels, but the packing would be done!  So can I ask a favor?  (No, please do NOT come burn my house down.)  Just pray for me until I am in a healthier state of mind… and then come help me pack!