there's no place like wherever you are
It's really odd sometimes where Life takes you. [Which makes me think, actually, is anyone surprised where death takes them?]
Anyway, this anthropomorphic Big-L Life and I seem to be running along in the journey of little-l life, and it feels like Big-L, besides being way ahead of me, keeps throwing things at me just to see how I'll handle them. One of the major tripping hazards lately: living accommodations.
Since I turned 18, I have moved every single year. EVERY ONE. After each year of college, I'd put stuff in storage, go home for the summer, and come back to a different apartment. So technically I think I moved several times every year. I have really learned how to capitalize on space with packing: dishes are padded with socks, picture frames are protected with blankets, and everything container-ish (trash cans, baskets, buckets, mailing boxes, suitcases, etc.) is stuffed with books, clothes, and whatever else is in my little-l life. What doesn't fit (i.e. what I didn't bother to pack because I decide I can't be bothered to drag it around anymore) gets donated. What with the donations, and with losing things because of the frequent moves, I can keep my stuff to a more or less manageable size. That is, I thought it was manageable until Life decided to throw a live-in-3-separate-places-in-the-past-5-months ball at me.
The story: I lived in an apartment with a roommate, about halfway between family and work. Then a friend needed someone to watch her apartment while she was out-of-country, so I move some of my stuff into her apartment and live there [Side note: it was wonderful. The commute to work was way shorter, I got to experiment with lots of kitchen appliances, and I was closer to a bunch of social activities]. So when she came back, I just didn't...leave. ('Course, this was also due to the fact that my actual roommate had told me that she wanted, in short, to live with someone else.) The problem was that I still had large items at my actual apartment, and it wouldn't fit in my friend's fully-furnished (quite nicely, I might add) apartment, so I needed to find a third place for my stuff. Enter into little-l life another friend who has a capacious apartment. I worked out living arrangements with her, and so over the past month have been moving things from apartment A to apartment B to apartment C. Which has been a sweaty pain.
I haven't finished unpacking (far from. I've barely started unpacking), and now I'm asking Life to give me a break from moving for a while. Unless Life plans on sending some movers as well.
Anyway, this anthropomorphic Big-L Life and I seem to be running along in the journey of little-l life, and it feels like Big-L, besides being way ahead of me, keeps throwing things at me just to see how I'll handle them. One of the major tripping hazards lately: living accommodations.
Since I turned 18, I have moved every single year. EVERY ONE. After each year of college, I'd put stuff in storage, go home for the summer, and come back to a different apartment. So technically I think I moved several times every year. I have really learned how to capitalize on space with packing: dishes are padded with socks, picture frames are protected with blankets, and everything container-ish (trash cans, baskets, buckets, mailing boxes, suitcases, etc.) is stuffed with books, clothes, and whatever else is in my little-l life. What doesn't fit (i.e. what I didn't bother to pack because I decide I can't be bothered to drag it around anymore) gets donated. What with the donations, and with losing things because of the frequent moves, I can keep my stuff to a more or less manageable size. That is, I thought it was manageable until Life decided to throw a live-in-3-separate-places-in-the-past-5-months ball at me.
The story: I lived in an apartment with a roommate, about halfway between family and work. Then a friend needed someone to watch her apartment while she was out-of-country, so I move some of my stuff into her apartment and live there [Side note: it was wonderful. The commute to work was way shorter, I got to experiment with lots of kitchen appliances, and I was closer to a bunch of social activities]. So when she came back, I just didn't...leave. ('Course, this was also due to the fact that my actual roommate had told me that she wanted, in short, to live with someone else.) The problem was that I still had large items at my actual apartment, and it wouldn't fit in my friend's fully-furnished (quite nicely, I might add) apartment, so I needed to find a third place for my stuff. Enter into little-l life another friend who has a capacious apartment. I worked out living arrangements with her, and so over the past month have been moving things from apartment A to apartment B to apartment C. Which has been a sweaty pain.
I haven't finished unpacking (far from. I've barely started unpacking), and now I'm asking Life to give me a break from moving for a while. Unless Life plans on sending some movers as well.
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