Moving

In theory, moving a 300 square foot apartment into a much larger house is a thing of simplicity. Through a few dishes and books in a box, tuck your cat under your arm, and boom. Done. After almost two years of feeling settled, I've forgotten this back breaking, mind numbing, nerve bending task and have formed an even greater collection of stuff. From my easel and painting supplies, to my small record collection. From my desk to my bed, this won't be fun. I can rejoice in the fact that I have a few weeks to move out. I dread the day I have to do it all at once. Most of my books are already at home in their new bookshelf and the majority of my kitchen supplies are getting cozy in new cabinets. But there are pots and pans, DVDs, an entire walk-in closet, my bathroom, and all of my furniture left. I need to set goals. This weekend, the rest of my kitchen, the rest of my books, all of my DVDs, video games, records and CD's will be moved. That's the minimum. The following weekend I'll be out of town and then I have one more weekend to get all my small stuff out before I call in the movers to take the big stuff and then clean. It's all very daunting. I need to focus on the future right now. I need to see myself with my little attic painting/writing studio and doing laundry on a weekly basis, and having barbeque's in the backyard, and drinking brandy out of my new little snifters I bought online. Forward, that's where I'm going. Forward, forward, forward. To here, to grad school, to a place I can put down my bags and not move for at least five years. To warmth and happiness, and a tiny slice of contentment (but not enough to stagnate of course). One day soon this move will be complete and I'll bask in the sun of my low rent and ample room.