Have you ever met anyone who loves the labor of moving? Whether it’s packing or unpacking? There are probably some people out there, but I am NOT one.
There is nothing profound for me to write in this post, other than I want to express my current frustration that is the labor part of moving. I’ve been moving around since I was young, probably since the age of 10. One year, I believed in 1997, my family moved three times in one year.
You’d think I’d be a pro at this, but instead, I’m just sitting in my room surrounded by a mountain of boxes. Just when I think I’ve gotten rid of one box by clearing it out, it doesn’t make any dent in my room. I wish I were like Bewitched where I could wiggle my nose, and everything would fall into place immediately, and I could thoroughly enjoy my area.
My body isn’t used to this type of labor. I woke up with a cramp in my back and hip. Is this what being in your thirties is all about? Do I have to stretch before I attempt at emptying out another box?
I am excited about decorating my place!
Revolutions are out! Vision boards are in!