I recently moved and all this change (read: disorder) has been jarring for a woman who inherited the cleaning gene and who’s so hyper-organized that I make a list of the lists I need to make.
This may be lost on those of you who don’t use a flat iron, but it took me four days to find mine. Four days! I should’ve marked the box that contained this miracle worker, magic wand “OPEN FIRST – Survival Kit” instead of “bathroom cabinet.” Then there was the missing soap dish. I was forced to put the slippery-when-wet bar in a zippy bag until I unearthed it. But worst of all, when I opened the box marked “kitchen – coffee” there was the coffee maker but the filters were nowhere in sight. Turns out they ended up as padding in a box that contained my favorite glass pitcher.
You’re probably wondering how such a list-maker extraordinaire couldn’t keep better track of what went into each of the 119 boxes that made the move. I started out with a brand new spiral notebook, a package of fresh marker pens, bubble wrap, a mountain of newspapers, and miles of clear packing tape. The plan was simple: number and label each box: #37 living room glass – fragile # 38 dining room – good glass – SUPER fragile # 39 dining room – Nanny’s stemware – EXTRA EXTRA FRAGILE. Then I listed the contents of each numbered box in the spiral notebook. But on that last frantic day before the move, things went terribly wrong. Some of the boxes were numbered but not labeled and two of the boxes were labeled but not numbered. Can you relate?
It’s been a month since the move and my ducks are finally in a row. I’ve just about finished unpacking – for now that is. But in a couple of months I’ll be gutting the kitchen and bathroom and, before the renovation project can begin, I’ll be packing up once more.