That kind of luxe just ain't for us...
Thank heaven. If packing up fifteen years of stuff in a 1500 sq. foot townhouse is this miserable, I wouldn't want to be packing up Buckingham Palace.
But, seriously, this is getting to be annoying and anxiety producing. Maybe especially so since we haven't finalized our destination. Martha noticed my cryptic box labeling and misunderstood (or over-understood) the meaning of Mom's VERY FRAGILE. "You feel very fragile?" "Why, yes, fragile and too tired to write everything out explicitly, as in These are Mom's things. They are very fragile.
|This is annoyance.|
Since I have a vague idea of where every book can be found and that memory should stay with me for a while, I devised a marking system to aid in retrieval of books during the unpacking process. Books-misc. hall 2 means from the mixture of books in the second floor hall. Books-Shakespeare B means the box is full of Shakespearean literature from the basement library. Books-humor 1 means humor books from the living room. Short of printing a manifest of the contents of each box and gluing it to the side of the box, this is the best I can do.
This is all quite annoying, laborious, and rather dusty since I am not the most diligent duster around. But I count my blessings. A quick look at the news shows me how well off we are.
|This is disaster.|
|Looks like she's working with packing tape, right?|
You can call me Queen Bee
And baby I'll rule!
....Now get the Queen 25 more banker's boxes and some tape.