Once we decided to go, I started packing pretty much right away. And by “packing” I mean throwing out crap I don’t use (I hate you knife block!), and going through my dresser to figure out what I might bring with me (aided by my infinitely more stylish cousin).
There was a whole long process of finding somewhere for our cat, which ended in meeting the Nicest Woman Ever, who is fostering the white furball. We got damn lucky.
With that taken care of, I turned to actual packing. By Christmas I had packed books, other bookshelf stuff, gnick gnacks, some wall stuff… you know, things that are easy to pack while watching terrible TV. Between Christmas and New Year’s, I went through files and packed a couple of plastic bins just so.
By the time Duncan got home on January 2, I felt like a hero – or possibly a small child, as I showed him how neatly I had packed everything. I was, admittedly, a bit concerned about our timing, even though I knew that Duncan would accelerate the pace of packing while I finished work.
What I didn’t expect was to come home on January 3 to a basement storage unit that was emptied and stacked in one end of the apartment, along with all the boxes I had packed and all of his work/music gear.
The next day he packed pretty much the whole kitchen. Not as fussily (obsessively) as I would have, but it was packed. On the 5th, he sorted the paperwork with our storage unit, helped out a friend since almost everything in our place was packed, and then we spent the weekend delivering precious items to cousins (thanks!).
I demolished the bedroom on Monday the 9th and managed to weed through everything and pack my bag by Tuesday evening, baffling Duncan with my slow, plodding pace while he staged the front living room for the truck pack (in case you didn’t know, the man has some experience with packing trucks).
In sum: 3 weeks of futzing around + 4 days of Duncan home = our life was packed. There was one or two tense moments – including a frenzied search that started with me saying loudly, frantically, “but I told you that I put it in the milk crate under the chicken!!!” I’ll let you decide what the hell that means.
On Thursday, two techs that Duncan knows helped us load up the courtesy van that came with our storage unit. For all the cold miserable rain, it went quickly – even more so when we unloaded it. Funny, moving stuff into a box is a hell of a lot easier than moving it into a house/apartment.
We managed to get rid of the last few things yesterday (the final item, our futon, was literally carried away and around the corner by four dudes), leaving us with an air mattress borrowed from friends and some cleaning supplies. I neurotically cleaned and cleaned and (surprise!) the landlords weren’t very interested in or worried about anything.
And so. Duncan’s en route; I leave tomorrow. It almost feels real now!