Yesterday was Boxing Day, in more ways than one. I spent around nine hours going through packed boxes with my sister to rearrange and seal them. then, I packed more. The costumes got boxed. The racks came down. The shelves in the workroom were taken apart. My life has become a stack of boxes: orderly, modular, completely masking the crazy beneath. 80% of it is from the workroom: trim and thread and fabric and beads and hats and wigs and heaven knows what else. I truly had no idea I had accumulated so much stuff.
I still have to tackle the kitchen and bathroom, which should take up one box each, and then . . . dun, dun, duunnnnnnnn: the bedroom. I have already packed some of my bedroom stuff, but if you were to walk into that room right now you would be assaulted by the god-awful mess and collection of things still straggling everywhere. I shiver to contemplate it: my New Years will no doubt be spent on this.
It's almost here. Two weeks from now, I will have spent my first weekend in my new apartment, in a new city, in a new state. I am excited and terrified, and I can't wait.
I just have to get there first.