Higitus Figitus

As I have mentioned, I am moving.  The packing is getting old.  I am not quite to the stage of just wanting to walk away and leave it all behind, but I can feel it coming.  There is always that balancing point between feeling like I’ve got a good handle on things and panic that there will never possibly be enough time to pack everything.  Then there’s the debate about what to pack when.  It’s probably safe to pack my fondue pot, but what about the rice cooker?  I can get through the next several weeks without my chopsticks, but I will definitely need the blender.  What can go, what needs to stay, and what happens when I reach the the point when I no longer care?  I’ve done this before and every time I’m sure I am going to do a better job.  I am actually convinced at this point that unless I learn Merlin’s magic packing spell there will once again be chaos.

I remember watching this scene from “The Sword in the Stone” as a child and finding it entertaining.  As an adult, I mostly feel jealousy.  I would love to sing a little song and pack up my house in under two minutes.  Sadly, I have to do it all the old fashioned way with boxes and tape and time.  And it seems like the more I pack, the more there is left to pack.  It makes no sense, but there you are.

Moving is exciting, packing not so much.  It very quickly becomes drudgery and obligation.  The redemptive work of purging and simplifying gives way to ‘get all this stuff ready to go’.  Sadly the busyness of packing seems to get in the way of the actual leave taking.  It is hard to find time to say goodbye, when there is so much work to do.  Maybe that’s why we do it.  Pack and sort and clean enough and you don’t have to think about what you’re leaving behind.  Perhaps our piles of boxes are a cocoon to keep us safe as we transition for one place to another.  We can build a wall that lets us deal with our emotions in a controlled manner when we have the time for them.

Or I may just be over thinking.

I still want that magic spell.


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