I believe moving is the penultimate rest stop en route to the apex of Ass Mountain. The only thing higher on Ass Mountain is camping. In fact, moving is kind of like camping. Your stuff is inconveniently elsewhere. You're drinking wine out of half a sippy cup. Your kids have to make due with toys crafted out of sticks, leaves and packing tape. Who knows where you're going to be sleeping? And, bugs surround you because you've had all the doors open taking your crap out to the car.
We had not been planning to move - as we arrived in California less than a year ago. We had wanted to rent for several years to find the perfect location and house in our new zip code. But, because it is our lot in life - we drew the short straw with the place we are currently in. And, you'd think at this point in my life that I'd be an expert at moving. I have moved so many times that I am out of Witness Protection Program standing and one train stop below Circus Performer status. I have had over 50 addresses in my life in seven different states and two countries. I was just starting to get comfortable - which clearly means it's time to move. Let's just add one more voter's registration into the mix, in case people are starting to recognize me at Trader Joe's.
Thankfully we found a cute place to move into for our next adventure. The good news is: we have over a month to move in. The bad news is: we have over a month to move in. On one side, I can take my time packing a carload of items, driving to the new house and then putting them away in a calm manner without just chucking everything into a cupboard haphazardly to get the boxes unpacked. On the flip side, I have sort of packed some of the rooms, sort of unpacked some of the rooms, feel like it's never going to end and have walked thirty zillion miles burning a hole in the rug accomplishing this. I'm getting a Mr. Miyagi ass kicking - without the benefit. "Wax on, wax off...Bend and lift and store! Tracy-san. Feel the burn! What. Are. You. Doing! Do not pull into McDonald's!! You just burned off a ton of calories and...oh forget it...you're hopeless."
The kids are feeling the stress as well. I walk out of one room to grab a tote bin and return to find the kids are taking turns unpacking the boxes that I just packed. Lena cries constantly because her buddy will no longer be right next door. So, add one more reason to the millions about why everything in her life is sooooooo wicked unfair because she has the WORST MOTHER EVER!!! Emmeline tries to "hewp." Mostly she just packs snacks. I open boxes at the new house to find random granola bars, fruit and string cheese tucked in with linens and cleaning supplies. Apparently there is risk of a famine in our new house and she wants to make sure she survives.
And, there are many, many stops and detours up Ass Mountain. You cannot just move from one place to another. That would be too simple. Now we need to double up on bills and supplies and gas just to accomplish this task. And, just trying to get bottled water delivered to your new place is akin to organ selling on Craig's List. Wait - you want to do what with your water dispenser? Um. I don't think we're allowed to do that. But we're only moving eight miles away! Yeah. Hmm. Why don't you call back in June.
But, in the end this will all be worth it. I've been able to unpack boxes full of things I haven't seen in almost a year. It's like Christmas! I have also found a bunch of stuff that I can't believe we bothered to bring with us instead of jettisoning it. Why I felt the need to pack candles that were 95% burned up is beyond me. And, before it gets too hot outside we will have settled into our home and get ready to meet some more people in our cozy, quiet new neighborhood. At least until someone recognizes me at Safeway and then it's time to move again. I hear Bolivia is nice this time of year...