Moving sucks. I cannot emphasize this enough. I hate pretty much every aspect of moving. I hate packing, unpacking, cleaning, lifting heavy things, you name it, I hate it.
And its not just the physical aspects of moving that get me. Mentally and emotionally, moving really destroys me. I don’t really know why, but at one point, six years ago, I colapsed in a puddle of tears in the toilet paper aisle at WinCo during a move.
Sometimes I deal brtter than other times. For instance, short moves that leave me in a better situation are obnoxious, but they don’t leave me distraught.
This move has brought me down to WinCo crying levels. At first I was okay with moving back to Michaels’ mom’s house. Then I heard some news (whihc will be passed on in a later engty) that changed my mind entirely, bt it was to late. So I spent my weekend (or at least a good protion of it) crying in bed.
Another thing that bothers me about moving this time is my stuff. Some people gate clutter. I love it. I want all my stuff accessible all the time. I mean I want it hidden in drawers an closets, but I want it all there, right next to me. I don’t even care about a lot of my stuff, but if I am going to have it, I want it close. Boxing it all up for three months really bothers me.