Things I Have Learned In The Past Week

It takes more than nine days to move out of a place where one has lived for nine years. Although the bulk of our possessions are now in the new house, we still have stuff in the condo which we have to get out before we can paint it, fix it up, make it pretty for potential buyers (hey, wanna buy a condo?) I am living in fear that we will never get the last few things out.

It takes three times as long to pack up one's things and move them out of a three story walkup than it does to actually move them into a house and unpack them. Provided you know where you want things to go. If you are at all confused about this (or fear you lack the closet space for all the black dresses you never wear) you may end up with lots of unpacked boxes.

Oddly enough, square footage means nothing. One can double the square footage of one's living space and still fill a place up with all one's stuff. It is nice that we don't have to much new furniture, but disturbing because I never thought our place was so crowded, but obviously, it must have been. Of course, I didn't have boxes of clothes sitting in the living room and I actually had books on the bookshelves, so perhaps things won't look so crowded a week from now. Perhaps.

If someone offers help, take it. I am the sort who feels awkward about accepting any sort of help, but moving has pretty much smacked me upside the head with all that I am unable to do on my own. My mother has been doing lots and lots of babysitting. Our friend, David, helped out on Sunday by offering boxes, an extra car, and an extra set of arms--we moved a lot of stuff out of the old place and we couldn't have done it without him. THANK YOU DAVID! (And thanks to Kristen for letting us borrow her husband for the afternoon.)

This is the house we will die in. I am leaving Julian with the task of moving my stuff out of this place sixty years from now. I can't do this ever again. I realize that all my talk about moving to London, Paris, New York, Mars is just that, talk. I am never leaving Chicago because just moving two miles pretty much kicked my butt. Attempting to relocate to another city would probably kill me.

I have some pretty impressive allergies and will have to get tests to find out precisely what is causing my mucus membranes to itch this much. I am thinking dust mites. I will have to adopt new house cleaning habits (i.e. I will actually have to clean house) in this new place. We bought a Swiffer, but I am suspecting this is just the tip of the iceberg.

Thank you for all your kind words of support.