Boxed In

Way, way back in the old days, I moved a lot. I moved into my first apartment in September of 1989. My next apartment in the fall of 1990. Wayne and I got married and moved in June of 1991. Then to another apartment in June of 1992. The next apartment came in December of 1993, then we bought our house in January of 1996. And here we are, 12 years later.

Back when I moved all of the time, packing and moving wasn't that big of a deal. Slap some stuff into a few boxes, make a zillion trips up and down stairs, pass out flung across the bed that night and wake up sore the next day.

My, my, how things have changed.

We aren't moving this time - we're doing renovations. We might as well be moving, for all of the packing and purging I've been doing for the past month. My living room is full of boxes. The front room/office is full of boxes. The entry way is full of boxes. We've given away a *lot* of stuff. I've thrown away countless bags of stuff. There's no end to the stuff!

Anyway. I'm down to the wire here with the packing. The movers are coming Friday morning to take away the couches, tables, bed frames, chests of drawers and mountains of boxes. The billiard people came yesterday and took the pool table to their storage.

So I better get busy. And tonight I'll dream about boxes.