Moving seems like a never-ending process until it is finished.
A year ago this month, I moved from Central Florida to Atlanta. It took a long time for me to get everything I needed packed, but since I only occupied a small section of my parents' house, it was easy to get my stuff packed away. I am moving again at the end of this month.
This time is different.
Now that I occupy an entire apartment, it is a lot harder to pack. I wander from room to room to see what needs to be packed, and I estimate how many boxes I will need. My original estimate turns out to be a gross under-calculation. So I pack, and get more boxes.
And more boxes.
And MORE boxes.
It's frustrating. Every time I go into a room, I look for stuff that needs to be packed. Except, for the past year my mind has grown accustomed to seeing things where they are supposed to be, so I pass over a lot of stuff that could be packed.
NO NO NO!
Once the boxes are full and the apartment is empty, "Two Men and a Truck" will come and transport my stuff to a new place.
I am hesitant to unpack, as I don't want to go through this ordeal again.