I have moved twice in my lifetime. When I was around 11, we moved from southern upstate New York to Northern Virginia. I don't really remember a lot of it, and really, I believe I wasn't even involved in most of it. We went from a three bedroom trailer to a four bedroom house with a living room, family room, dining room, office, and basement. Even though it was two adults and two kids worth of stuff, there was more than enough room to get everything in there. I don't really remember it being a problem.
Two years ago, Hubs (then really a bf) and I moved in together into the 740 square foot apartment. I left a lot of stuff at my mom's because they had a lot of space, and we stored a lot of stuff there, but somehow in the past 24 months we have found a way to fill that place to bursting. Moving in there, though, was a blur. I don't remember what it's like to be moving our stuff, and blending it together. ( Or to have an empty space to turn the front end loader into and DUMP). Now our stuff is just stuff and it has to be moved again.
And now we have a fuzzball who needs to be moved as well. Not a big deal, I'll just leave him crated at my mom's and then bring him over to christen the new place (probably by pooping on the floor, this is his MO when visiting new places for the first time... we call it ninja pooping because he usually does it in a room where everyone isn't and then prances around until someone finds it... and then unfortunately repeats...)
I am a little overwhelmed with the thought of how much stuff we have. A year ago now, I was starting to really get the ball rolling on planning the wedding... and as the year between the proposal and the wedding date rolled on, things just got crazier and crazier. We were just straight up busy and mentally unfocused... and we let everything pile up and get disorganized and didn't notice that we weren't really living in our place but out of it. I don't really remember what it was like before then.
I have to admit, we were pretty much apathetic about the way we lived in our apartment. We knew it wasn't permanent and that was how we carried out our day to do day lives, just kind of surviving until we get somewhere else. I really feel very strongly that this is not the way I want to do business in our new house. I want things clean and neat, marginally. I don't need a model house but I would like some sense of order. When we have people over, I don't want to grab armloads of SHIT and throw it into the bedroom and close the door. I want to feel like if they show up early, I won't be mortified because I haven't gotten to the other side of the room yet.
And if someone has to come into the house while we're at work (ie, mom coming to get the dog) I don't want to be wondering what my house looks like that I didn't consider while running out the door (late) for the office.
I guess these are just things that apartment life didn't really give us the option of. We have an entire other bedroom and an attic for storage. Our entire lives won't be in our living room.
And we have time. Glorious, freeing time. And stability. Because we are going to be there for awhile. And we know it. So there is a sense of dedication and of working toward something greater than we had before. Instead of it being temporary and something that was never really ours to begin with, we have something that we can own and be proud of.
In any case, I can't wait to get rid of all our shit.
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