Drowning in a Sea of Boxes and Post-its

Buying a house is one thing; buying everything you need to move in and packing it all is another. Since we started the process, we bought things here and there so we didn’t have this huge expense at once. Before we even picked a house, we had most of the basics we would actually need. This weekend we spent putting more of a dent in that list. That was the fun part. Looking at all the stuff you now have to pack? Groan city.
My neighbors sold their house and moved shortly before we heard whether we got the house. She had to drive back to the city to pick up her kids from school and was kind enough to supply us with boxes, bubble wrap and other packing supplies. At first, I thought she had given us too much for what little stuff I thought we had. I was so very wrong. After using about 6 or 7 of those boxes and all of the packing stuff, I reconsidered the state of this situation. I’ve learn my lesson: if you think you have enough boxes, get triple the amount more.
I was impressed with myself with my accomplishment of packing one whole room in 2 hrs. Then I realized how much more I had left to do. I say “I” instead of “we” not because my husband is a useless waste of space, but because I have decided to take this on myself. My husband calls me the “Tetris Queen” because somehow I always get everything to fit. Mostly I’ve decided to do this myself because I am an OCD anal control freak that needs to do this myself or I will make whomever doesn’t do it my way very miserable. (Remember, admitting your flaws is healthy for you and your relationship.) I tell my husband it’s because he does so much at work that I couldn’t possibly make him come home and help with it. No, he doesn’t believe me. Yes, he does know this means “I love you too much to want to hurt you”. He stays out of my way, and tries (mostly unsuccessfully) to keep our toddler out of the way.
I tried to do it while he’s at work, but I found I spent 100% of my time trying to retrieve the box that the toddler declared as his toy, and 0% trying to pack. And “box” was not a typo. One box and 1 hour of effort was all the evidence I needed to prove that this was not going to work out. I considered enlisting the troupe of grandparents that would love to watch him but like usual, my sense of family duty won. If I can manage a child while vomiting and completely exhausted with fever, certainly I can handle packing with my overly active toddler. Millions of parents do this all the time, so dammit I can to. I was raised that way, and I’m made of steel. Stainless steel.
Friday is the big day. I have set myself up to fail by listening to my husband and waiting until now to do this. But I am nothing if not amazing at meeting deadlines. I live for this sort of pressure. I will have everything packed at ready to go for Friday, especially considering I’m probably going to be too excited to sleep Thursday night. I’m ready for this.

One Week

My husband and I look at each other every day since getting word of the house, we smile and say “homeowner”. We are beyond excited.  We’ve moved onto a new stage of this journey: logistics. How should this room look? How should we set up this place? What about my office area? When should we do this project? Do we rent a truck or borrow one?
This weekend the packing and cleaning starts. Everything is becoming more real now. My weekend and week will be about boxes and shopping. There’s a lot to do in a week, and I hope I can get most of it done. There’s no real rush to be done in a week, because we still have abestos tiles to pull up and paint to dry and air out fumes. Plus, the internet won’t be in for another week so I can’t really work there until then.
I just want the keys, I want to sign the paperwork and lay down on our lawn or our floor and just take a moment to take all of this in. It’s ours. I want to stand at our windows and look around. I want to take a run in the new area and get user to my surroundings. My anxiety has turned into complete excitement. I can’t wait to see it when we’re done and officially moved in.
There is nothing more adult feeling than knowing you own a house. In January when I turned 30, I didn’t think that I would be where we are now. I felt like a failure in following my dreams of writing. I thought we would never get a home. Now, my writing career seems to be doing well for someone really starting to break into the field. And now next week we get the keys to our home. Turning 30 turned out to be the best thing to have happened to me. This upcoming adventure will be on my top 5 “best things to happen to me” list.