On what may have been the hottest day of the century, I moved. By and large, the process ran smoothly (our movers were fantastic!). I did face the typical “just throw it in a box, and I’ll figure it out later” situations, but I didn’t really hit a frantic part until the actual day of
It’s just after 3 am here in California, and as is usual these days, I can’t sleep. I could blame the chaos around me in the form of moving boxes, but I think my brain just won’t stop going over all the things that need to be done now that I’ve returned. Returned? Yep. I
I’ve just started the process of putting my life in a box, and I’ve already discovered that the fantasies in my head about how this would go aren’t quite in line with the realities. Just in case you are also about to embark on this journey… a word of warning… Fantasy version: You picture yourself
I was aimlessly drifting through Twitter a while ago (as I do when I’m procrastinating), and I ran across a post about someone who was moving. He was happy to report that he had far fewer boxes of “emotional debris” than he has had in the past. William (@WilliamVintage—if you don’t follow him, you should)