Oh, moving.

There's a certain thrill to me about getting ready to move. I do enjoy a change of scenery and it is nice to go through all of your stuff and cleanse of the non-essentials. See ya stuff that has expired, clothes I never wear, and general crap I kept because, "what if I need it someday?". But there's also this nauseating element to an upcoming move when it comes to the actual packing and uprooting your life part. Since Mitch's orders are for us to go TDY enroute (temporary duty assignment where you only go for a few months with minimal possessions on your way to the final destination) to Washington, that means I have the daunting task of sorting through what I think we may need to survive through the next 4 or so months, inclusive of my 3 favorite holidays. Challenge accepted, Air Force. Oh, did I mention Mitch only gets back 4 days before our movers come? Lucky me. 

Honestly, Mitch is a huge help around the house when he is around. I got stupid lucky when I married a man who thrives on organization and attention to detail (almost) as much as I do. He even did an equal amount of work when planning our wedding, which is basically unheard of for the male species. I rely on his opinion and creative solutions so much that it has been difficult to make even simple decisions about moving. Before he left for survival training he did as much as he could to sort through the things he wanted me to make sure came with us to Oklahoma, but I still feel like a lost puppy. And now that we are on day 3 of 6 of him being cut off from communication, I am really losing motivation to be productive. 

So today I took down all the pictures on the second floor walls. It was mindless because they obviously have to come off and the nails needed removed. Decision made all by myself! I piled all the wall hangings on our futon in our office and was so proud of myself for completing that task. Then, as if my brain was channeling Mitch, it occurred to me that I should have piled everything on the main floor. "They are just going to have to carry all that downstairs and that is where all of our other wall stuff is anyway", my Mitch voice said. Ugh. I think I will leave it upstairs anyway. Moving stuff, that is what movers are paid for, right?

I also had this "genius" idea to take everything out of the kitchen that we want them to pack for storage and put it in the hutch with nonessential glassware. Well, I filled the hutch up faster than I thought. So I got a box and sat it next to the hutch. Then I overfilled that box. And broke a nice glass infuser pitcher. That's how I got started on the upstairs walls. Obviously I am doing a super job when left by myself to handle this.

Finally, I went into the guest bathroom and went through our medicine cabinet to dispose of everything that is expired. Something I couldn't mess up! Mitch would be telling me everything was fine, even if the date was way expired, and wouldn't let me throw it away. Silver lining alert! It feels so good to throw stuff away!

...like the whole bottle of Baileys I dumped down the drain that expired in '07...

Oh, I love/hate moving. :)