The boxes have invaded. They are taking over our territory. Our living space has been compromised. Chaos is impending.
Packing. It sucks.
Really, we're only moving across town. 10 minutes away. My ideal? Making a gazillion trips back and forth over the course of a week. It would go something like this: put dishes into box, put box in car, drive car, take out box, bring into new kitchen, take dishes out of box and into cabinet, put empty box back in car, rinse and repeat. If we close soon (which is a distinct possibility!) moving could be more like this and less like the scene depicted above where boxes are everywhere and you have no room to breathe.
The sad thing? We actually need more boxes. We've already gone through that entire stack. And we need newspaper to wrap all those fragile things that are getting packed away since we don't need them right now.
Ben and I have been spending 30 minutes in the basement each day for the past month, since that is the biggest source of clutter and chaos. Once we get rid of the year's worth of redeemable botttles we have down there (yes, we're bad at that), it will actually look like a basement again and not like a waist-high junk pile. We've gone through just about every box (and had some good times remembering childhood memories) and weeded and purged and probably have as much to give away as we do to move. Yay.
The theory is that the basement would be the hard part and the rest will be easy. Maybe. We have so much random stuff that is unsorted, and we're trying to chip away at it....really trying to get rid of stuff. When in doubt, throw it out. That's the mantra.
Anyway. Packing. Bleah.