Moving day

Posted 8/21/12

Who loves moving? Who loves change? OK, I see a few of you out there holding your hand up in the air, but for most of us, moving is more than a little stressful. In my never-ending quest for peace of …

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Moving day

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Who loves moving? Who loves change? OK, I see a few of you out there holding your hand up in the air, but for most of us, moving is more than a little stressful. In my never-ending quest for peace of mind, I turned to the Internet for solace. Oy. Instead of finding soothing words of encouragement, I discovered these “shocking stats about moving-related stress” (www.moversnmoreservice.com): “Many studies conducted in the U.S. show that people believe that moving to a new home will be one of the most stressful events in their lives,” I read, through blurred sleepless eyes. “About 41% of second-time [transplants] claim that their second move was more stressful than the first.” That sounds swell. “This being my third move in as many years should prove to be a piece of cake, then,” I whine to the dog. Tasteless, dry, crumbling, stale, panic-flavored cake.

Glutton for punishment that I am, I continued to read. Fact #1—“Ten percent of people moving from one home to another suffer from hair loss.” Great! Fact #2: Fourteen percent of people who are changing their place of residence suffer from short-term memory loss.” Wait, what was I saying? Fact #3: Nineteen percent of people who need to relocate suffer from symptoms of anxiety.” Anxiety? Me? Oh, that’s just crazy talk. Oh sure, I’ve known for a while, but busy bee that I am, I have put off packing for a variety of reasons.

Fact #1—I’m a procrastinator. Fact # 2—I loathe change. Fact #3—I’m a procrastinator. Although my desk is littered with notes, reminders and more than three calendars, if there’s something I can put off till tomorrow, I will. This is one of the many reasons that I love being a columnist—deadlines. Between being forced to get the work in on time (yeah, it’s “late” sometimes) I also have a task-master at work (you know who you are, Jane Bollinger) who keeps me in line. Were it not for the aforementioned deadline, I’d never get the column done. Not because I’m lazy, mind you. Let’s just say, I’m… busy.

Moving day. It’s looming. In less than a week, I’ll be in a new place, trying to figure out which un-labeled box holds what. “No time for details,” I shriek at the pup. My reward for procrastinating? Just flinging my stuff into boxes and sorting it out on the other end. Great.

One final glance at the Internet-site-from-hell reveals that while “some homeowners insist on collecting their valuables, clothes, small appliances and household gadgets themselves, one of the hardest things to do [when you have a move ahead of you] is to pack your belongings.” Well, duh. Turning the computer off, I made a list. “Freak out, breathe, pack, repeat,” are the words scribbled in front of me. Deciding to follow my sage advice in order of importance, I choose to freak out and proceed.

“Oops,” I moan. “Gotta write that column.” With apologies all ‘round, I did not race from venue to venue over the last week (and might miss a few events next week, too), as I was far too busy procrastinating. Oh, sure, I packed a few things, but the daunting task of sorting through my sordid past overwhelmed, and although it’s often interesting to reflect on where I’ve been, I’m reminded that I must think about where I’m going, and that there’s really no time for a stroll down memory lane.

Having committed months ago to join other, more talented (IMHO) writers than I, at Victoria Lesser’s place (www.theoldnorthbranchinn.com) on Saturday, I took a few hours off from procrastinating and read my story, but was unable to attend the Weather Project (www.nacl.org) fundraiser/auction/luncheon in Eldred, (www.henningslocal.com), because I was busy sorting dog toys. Apparently, “freaking out” is on Dharma’s list, too, because she has been dancing around me every time I dare to move one of her precious belongings from basket to box. Freaking. Anyhow, while I was not at the luncheon, one of my spies informed that the NACL and guests had a ball at Henning’s and the wondrous assortment of windows created for the Weather Project encouraged a bidding war for the artwork being auctioned off. Wishing I could afford to purchase my own contribution (hey! moving is expensive!) I breathed (there’s that word again) a sigh of relief upon hearing that my window (titled “Neverland”) went home with “a lovely woman” named Liz Whitestone. Ironically, the words “I have a place where dreams are born” are inscribed on my masterpiece, I hope you enjoy it in your home, Liz… and at the same time, I hope my new place inspires dreams in my very-near-future. At the moment, it looks more like a nightmare, but I’m closer than I was yesterday. Next up? Moving day.

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