The move

I feel as if i have spent hours in the sparring ring. With my furniture.

Friday, I packed and moved the kitchen, the most time-consuming part of the house; I still don't quite understand why. That took the better part of the day and most of the night: 5 am - midnight, a 19-hour day. Yesterday, I got up at 3 am; for the next seven hours, I continued packing, so that when my oldest friend and her husband came down, there wouldn't be much time wasted putting my stuff into boxes. I rented a U-Haul, but annoyingly only had it from 8-3. Since most people showed up at 11 or later, this made the schedule what I'd call harrowing. In the end, we managed to get the truck filled, and go back down for another truckload, as well as having some smaller things brought up. I was on my feet and working from 3 am - 11 pm last night, with a couple of small breaks for food and driving. That's 20 hours, with a 19-hour day just before it-- and so I was less than patient. I'm not someone who sits back and asks anyone else to work harder than I do. I bust my ass, and I expect you to, as well. It was a minor miracle that I didn't lose my temper.

Today, I'll continue to move the rest of my things and get them sorted. A trip to IKEA is also in order; moving to a bigger space does require a few more things. Not that I'm all about rampant consumerism and filling up every possible inch of space in a house; but buying two new trash cans for the two other bathrooms in the house isn't exactly going over the top.

Back to it.