Boxes

This weekend is the big packing weekend. Hopefully by this time Sunday, most of my stuff will be parcelled up in cardboard and ready to be shoved onto the back of a U-Haul. I'm still not sure which weekend exactly I'm moving, but it's better to get as much packing done early before the summer heat hits and we end up passing out in puddles of our own sweat while trying to find the stuck-down end of the roll of packing tape. It's happened before, don't wanna do it again.

In my life, I've done a lot of moving. In some ways, I've always thought it's exciting to move to a new place, with new experiences, challenges, and opportunities. But in other ways, it's kinda depressing seeing all your things reduced down to a pile of boxes and half-deconstructed furniture. Either way though, upwards an onwards to the next adventure, where I get to start over again in new and unpredictable ways.

At least at the next place, it won't feel like I'm spending half my waking life trapped on a bus. On a bus, sandwiched-in with surly strangers who are terrified of making eye-contact with anyone, completely self-absorbed, with little or no interest in anything that's going on outside of their bubble of backyard BBQ's, federal employee benefits, children's soccer practices, and clearance sales at the local Zellers. Good riddance.