Stage I of the Big Move - the Panties, Legos, and Frozen Peas segment - is scheduled for President's Day weekend. That's ten days away.
I have done nothing at my house to prepare, except to pull out a few more pieces of clothing from my closet and toss them onto the large charity-bound mound on my bedroom floor. It's been there for eight months. There are now more clothes in the pile than in my closet.
Wait! I did get something done last night. Young Son and I finally finished sorting the copier-paper box full of Legos and Bionicle parts back into their component bins. It has taken us approximately five hours total over the last two weeks to do this.
I know. It's just so me. Let's see... should I spend five hours cleaning out the kitchen cabinets, fridge, and freezer? Maybe the bathroom cabinets? No, no, no! That's certainly not nearly as important as sorting out a million little plastic toy pieces into two piles.
Hey, don't judge me. I can't help it. I'm a P, not an J.
This being my fourth move in 2½ years*, I think I can give you a pretty accurate forecast for the next ten days.
This week, look for increasing stress and agitation about what I think has to be done. Lots of random things (see above) will be accomplished, but very little actual progress will be made.
At some point this weekend, Mr. B will have to talk me down off the ledge, and I will regroup and prioritize what really does have to be done. Some of it may actually get done.
The first part of next week will be full of prolonged procrastination accompanied by guilt, until possibly Thursday, when the light will dawn. The pace will then increase rapidly. At first packing will occur in a rational and orderly fashion, until I run out of time and begin throwing shit into boxes at random. This storm will last all weekend, increasing in intensity through Monday.
By the end of President's Day, most of the panties, Legos, and frozen peas will end up at Mr B's house, although I won't be able to figure out what's in which box. I will be exhausted and completely drained, just in time to go back to work.
But it's going to be worth it. So-o-o-o very worth it! Mr B best be prepared - I ain't going nowhere for a long, long time.
* Just figured out it's my 17th move in 30 years, give or take. Can that be right? You've got to be fucking kidding me.