Or rather, five-half-weeks if you like to be specific. In six weeks all of our worldly goods will have been packed up in boxes, bins, moving containers, and suitcases and sent or carried off to various places. We will have completed the eighth trans-atlantic journey in the last two years, and be at the beach. Five weeks into the future will be a completely different story.
A few days ago, when a friend asked if we had everything ready for packout (supposedly in a month), Brandon laughed and said that if it were up to him we'd have our suitcases packed, but since his wife was in charge of those things, not a thing had been done yet.
Here is a list of things we've done to get ready to leave:
1. buy a rug
Here is a list of things we haven't done:
1. purchase (or even schedule) plane tickets
2. schedule our packout
3. find somewhere to live
4. sort through our belongings
5. organize everything for those three separate destinations
6. decide how to get from North Carolina to Missouri
7. finally take the children to the Pyramids
However, in preparation for our departure, Rere is bringing ten kilos of delicious fresh apricots on Sunday so I can take apricot jam to Baku with us. And in two weeks Brandon and I are going to Turkey for five days.
Genetically, I am a planner. My mother was a planner, my grandmother was a planner, my sisters are planners. There is a deeply-rooted desire to take the world and organize it according to the way it should be. After moving several (to be honest not that many yet) times, I've realized that, if taken to its fullest extent, planning too much too early will end up hamstringing my efforts.
So this time, I'm trying something different: cram the pain into a small space. After we come back from Istanbul, I will organize, sort, shuttle, pack, and throw away as much a I can in two weeks. Then the movers will come and pack up whatever is left. Then I will go on vacation for six weeks.
After all, everything will get moved, regardless of how organized it is when it's thrown into boxes. Right?