I move tomorrow. It seems like the house is only half packed (that in fact might be true!). And we've had a heat wave the past two days. Last night I finally just
My fiancee (Yes! It's true!) walked in and was like, "Umm... are you OK?" (Poor guy. What do you say to a sobbing overwhelmed woman melting down on your couch in the middle of a heatwave?)
I yelled "No! I'm hot and tired and frustrated and I'm a failure at packing! I'm going to lose important papers and it's a mess and it's awful and I'm stressed out and I hate it. I hate that I have too much stuff. I hate it!!!!!" Well, something like that, but I really did say I'm a failure at packing. Yeah, I really said that. I guess my last day at work on Tuesday had nothing to do with the dip in self-confidence. Nor the heatwave. Nor the absolute chaos surrounding me.
You know what he said? "Well, we move on Saturday. And it'll get done. It might be messy, but it'll happen. And if some stuff gets left behind, we can come back and get it. It's OK." (I'm paraphrasing a bit, but you get the idea.)
I knew there was a reason I agreed to marry this man. It'll get done. It might be messy, but it'll happen. Ah, words of wisdom. And so life goes, messy as it might be.
So, just get it done. Messy or not, it'll happen.