Packing

Moving is not fun.  But this packing business is getting depressing.

I've been purging and packing for five months now.  I took Number One Daughter's advice and started early.  She thought, and I thought, that this would make it easier.  Well, it probably has made it easier.  Which makes it totally depressing to think of how hard it would be trying to do it in a shorter period of time.

I've been purging.  I've gotten rid of things.  I've made too many trips to the dumpster to count them.  I've made multiple trips to Value Village.  I've pared down what I need to take.  I've reduced the amount that I need to pack.

As I've packed, of course, the place has been a disaster.  I don't have access to a lot of my stuff, because some of it has been packed.  I've tried to keep out what is absolutely necessary, but it's hard to predict that in advance.  So some things that I end up needing have been packed, and some things I've left accessible aren't packed yet, and need to be.  Also, the place is a mess, because packing also involves some sorting, so you need space, for that, and I'm running out of it.

(As an example of "absolutely necessary," I have just had to go down to the locker and tear open one of the boxes, because I had planned and left out the cans of food that I'm eating for the next three days, and the pot I was going to cook the food in, and the knife for the carrots to augment the canned stuff, and the spoon I will be using to eat the food out of the pot [well, that's plannin', innit?  Forethought.  Planning stuff that can be eaten right out of the pot so you don't need plates and bowls and other stuff that needs to be packed], but had forgotten to leave out the can opener ...)

Possibly because of the mess, possibly because of the disturbance, possibly just because of the stress of moving again, my sleep is once again disturbed.  For over three weeks now I've been running on about four hours sleep a night.  And I haven't had any "catch-up" nights.  Last night I got two and a half hours of sleep.  Hopefully it's just because of the move, and not some weird recurrence of the bereavement sleep deprivation, and I will, once I get over to Port Alberni, start getting some sleep again.  But, for the moment, I can feel that my concentration, memory, and cognitive abilities in general are impaired.  I'll go to do something, and realize later that I haven't done it.  It's not making the packing, or planning the packing, any easier.

And there's still been lots to pack.  I packed the books.  I packed knick-knacks, and crystal, and mementos.  I packed pictures.  I devised coding systems to label boxes so that I'd be able to figure out, on the other end, which boxes contained what.  I gathered more boxes.  I think the liquor store is sick of the sight of me.

And still there is more to pack.  I've got lists of things to pack.  I've pared down those lists, but then I've added more things to those lists.  And now I'm running out of boxes, and I've still got more things to pack.  And as I pack those things on the list, things that were behind the things that I'm packing, or behind the boxes that I'm packing them in, suddenly appear and remind me of their existence!  So I'll get something packed, and have a feeling of accomplishment, which lasts all of about 1.7 seconds, until I turn around and see something that I had forgotten even existed!  And it needs to be packed!  And it needs a box, and a place on the truck, and sometimes possibly a place in my car, because I'll need a few things before the truck comes.  Or I'll need to be absolutely certain that I have that regardless of whether the truck gets on a ferry that sinks under the weight of it!

The girls have been great.  They've provided boxes, and support, and ideas, and an enormous cooler for throwing in stuff from the freezer and fridge at the last minute which I initially felt was way too big for the job but I'm starting to suspect may be just right.  (I am reminded of the statement that friends help you move: *real* friends help you move *bodies*.  The cooler is that big.)  And, again, it's depressing to think how hard this would all be without their help.

Oh, well.  Not being able to sleep and getting up early means more hours to pack ...