Just back the Dumpster up to the window.

Well, it’s July – and the countdown is officially on: a month from now we’ll be permanently relocated in our new home in the wilds of the Adirondack Park.  However, for now we’re going to spend the better part of the next four and a half weeks going over every inch of the cottage in our efforts to pack and prepare.

Part of me dreads this process, even though I’m genuinely excited and looking forward to moving to our new home.  The thought of the sheer amount of work is paralyzing in the extreme and it makes me want to just wrap myself up in a blanket and retreat under the desk with a bottle of Rumple Minze, but I know that’s not going to solve anything.  I also know that simply throwing open one of the living room windows and tossing anything that isn’t nailed down into the back yard isn’t going to help either, regardless of how attractive an option that might be.

Honestly we don’t have that much stuff that we’re bringing with us, since the new house is fully furnished.  We’ll only be supplementing with items that are missing from North Creek, like bookshelves and certain kitchen appliances like a stand mixer and a blender; in fact we don’t even plan on bringing our dilapidated couch or incredibly uncomfortable mattress along.

Still there’s just so much crap to go through and organize that it’s a daunting task.  I hate clutter with a passion but I can’t seem to get away from it, and adding all the stuff that comes with a newborn daughter into the mix just makes things all that worse.  In a lot of ways I am looking forward to getting to go through everything and deciding whether or not it’s worth packing up and dragging all the way up to our new home; I just hope that I can keep myself motivated enough to actually do it and not just unpack and repack the same three boxes over and over again in different ways like some hellish game of three-dimensional Tetris.

Not that I’m bad at Tetris.


Every damn time!


3 thoughts on “Just back the Dumpster up to the window.

  1. One of the things I actually like about moving is that it gives me a fresh start–in more ways than one. It’s liberating to throw out all the crap I’ve been holding onto. It’s sorta like starting a new semester with fresh loose leaf and new binder. But going through the detritus of one’s life takes time–and a certain callousness: does one really need to hang onto that graduation stub from high school? For some, letting go of those scraps of paper is excruciating. But it is the memory that counts, not a bit of fluff. Rationally, we know this, yet we keep holding onto that scrap for dear life– as if it truly matters; that pile grows, and soon we are psychologically and physically held hostage to things. Clearly, it ain’t easy to part with the relics of our lives, but is ultimately liberating.

    And so I paraphrase Dr. Jones’ words to his son in Indiana Jones and the Quest for the Holy Grail:
    “Let it go, son. Let it go.”

    • You say that but I know for a fact there’s an entire cabinet of creepy-ass porcelain dolls in your office that glare at me with murderous intent in their glassy little eyes every time I walk in there.

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