Moving Day

I hate moving. There are no two ways about it. You dear faithful readers out there have witnessed my verbal spewing about 3 moves so far on this blog -- here's a brief complaint about yet one more.

Melissa and I have been married for 5 1/2 wonderful happy years, and those years have been punctuated by 6 moves so far -- this will be our 7th. Our shortest move has been about 5 miles, the longest two were about 1000 miles. This one will be somewhere in the neighborhood of 15 or so. You would think we would have this down to such a science by now that we would be totally blase about it, but I would have to say that I literally can't think of a more stressful thing we have done that didn't involve adding a new family member.

HOME is so important to me, I depend so much on being able to have my home be a safe and welcoming shelter for me. It is my place of recuperation, rest, recovery, recharging, and lots of other 'R' words I can't think of right now. To have my home turned upside down in packing mode is to have my internal mechanisms completely discombobulated. I find that it makes my responses to external events completely unpredictable -- will I overreact or underreact to the next stimulus that comes my way? Who knows!? I am like a keel-less ship at sea. I am SO ready to feel settled again, Mel and I are daydreaming about just being able to sit down and watch a movie in a room that is not full of boxes and know that there is no packing needing to be done.

Ok, I'm done now. Actually I'm not done at all, but that's all I have time for. If any of you P-Town dwellers out there have nothing to do 9:00 am Saturday, feel free to show up here , we'll be loading up the truck and heading for Vancouver -- sub sandwich lunch for all present. Fair warning: our destination is on the 3rd floor. Yikes.