moving sucks

These are the lies I tell myself with shocking regularity:
  1. There is nothing wrong with spending $4.80 every day on cinnamon dolce lattes.
  2. I am always five minutes away from wherever I need to be. Unless I need to take a cab, in which case I am just 15 minutes away. For example, "I'm leaving in the next five minutes, and it'll take me like two seconds to walk across the High Level Bridge."
  3. In the summertime, it is unnecessary to dry my hair. That's what the sun does.
  4. I have very few things. Moving them from Point A to Point B shouldn't take longer than, say, a day. And I only need, like, four boxes to carry everything.

People shouldn't tell lies. Specifically, they shouldn't tell themselves lies.

I have left packing and moving to the last possible minute. And even when I am supposed to be packing, like now, I find myself easily distracted by Facebook, my own blog, diary entries written when I was 19, and, the lowest of all shoulda-been-packing moments, Age of Love.

Anyway, turns out I have lots of stuff. And this, the least adventurous of any of my moves -- this weekend I move my crapload of stuff from one floor of my building to the next courtesy of Alberta's shocking economic boom, which wooed my landlords into selling their condo -- is still a really big pain.

And, like every other move I've ever submitted to (five in the last five years thanks to an 18-month transit between Ottawa-Niagara-Edmonton), I am appalled by the number of books I have collected over the years.

Seriously. Has there ever been a book I've said no to at a bookstore? I am ridiculous! I have whole piles of to-read books, that still have not been read, and still I buy more.... I tried to carry armloads of books from my old apartment to my new, but then realized that would take me 45 days. So now I definitely need more than four boxes to pack all my stuff.

Don't even get me started on how much cookware I've somehow accumulated. Or how disgusting it is that a grown woman (me) has only dusted as often as her mother has come to visit her in the last two years.

1 comment:

Erin said...

I'd like to exonerate "lie" #1. I recall said lattes being referred to as "little cinnamon clouds of happiness". Surely, the opportunity to enjoy one of the simplest pleasures in life, a good coffee (which I recently read a good description of as an "olfactory organism") is worth less than $5 a day. Drink up.