It’s amazing how tedious and seemingly complex unpacking feels. I really thought I was better at it, but as it turns out, I’m not. I might even go as far as to say I’m the worst mover ever. The idea of tackling 40+ unopened boxes and finding a place for each and every little thing not only makes me nauseous but quite frankly, embarrassed. In a time where there is an evolved collective consciousness about taking up space (with possessions or population, or both), I truly feel we own too much “stuff” and moving to a new place only puts a bigger spotlight on that.
The worst part (and the sole reason for embarrassment) is that we lived abroad for a year, so we’re literal ambassadors for condensed living and yet here we are 2 1/2 years later with a living room filled with boxed belongings and I can’t even recall how we came into half of it.
This past weekend was the third weekend we spent chipping away at the mess and I’d be lying if I said we finished. The good news is that we’ve catalogued about 14 boxes of books and since I bought Erik a Kindle for his birthday, we can sell / donate most of those, which frees up a lot of space in our little 600 square foot flat. I’ve also sold / donated a ton of our clothing and we bought a desk which allows us to unpack all of Erik’s office boxes.
I hope this is over by next weekend. I know we’re busy bees, but a month seems like a silly amount of time for unpacking and organizing your things.