My Arch Nemesis: The Moving Box

This week has been a strange mixture of busyness that can only come from being overbooked, and laziness that can only come from being overworked with a side of toddlers to keep the stress flowing. My husband, Aaron, came home from Korea last Saturday night, and our little family of five had a sweet reunion that was a long time coming. I haven’t seen my kids this happy since Christmastime when he was able to visit for a bit. Re-adjusting to a full house and having my husband home has been mostly wonderful, but it also hasn’t been without its growing pains.

Our garage was so full of boxes that we couldn’t even put our car inside. My truck won’t fit even when the garage is empty, but Aaron’s car fits great, so we set to work cleaning out the garage. We took a day and moved about half of the boxes from the garage to the area in the house their contents were labeled for. I can now freely walk around the perimeter of my garage, but now my house is full of boxes. Again. I cannot stand having boxes in my space, something that doesn’t seem to bother my husband. Even looking at the boxes stirs feelings of anxiety, and I find my eyes glazing over and sliding past the boxes in an effort to quell my building frustration with the clutter only a house full of moving boxes can bring.

After we moved, I took two weeks straight and just unpacked every single box that was in the house, including moving some from the garage to my house to get stuff we really needed. For the last month I’ve been box surfing in the garage to find things I still need and I’ve been wearing the same 5 outfits. I will probably have to replace all my exercise pants, they’re so overworn. Thank goodness I didn’t need to go anywhere that required real clothes, because all my nice clothes are still in boxes. Although, progress! Thanks to Aaron those boxes are now at least residing in my closet.

The downside to all that is we suddenly have a house full of boxes, and an organization/unpacking/spring cleaning project that is large and incredibly overwhelming to look at or think about. I manage it well, but lately, my anxiety leaks out at inopportune times, like when I look into my kitchen and realize the boxes have returned, and I experience a rising sense of panic. Or opening my closet door to more boxes, and having boxes in my previously pristine bedroom and office.

I know things need to be unpacked and gone through, etc. But I also hate the mess, and despite being very good at organization, moving boxes fill me with a dread that is difficult to put into words. I think it’s because our last move happened under traumatic circumstances. (Tl;dr: the day we closed on our house, someone tried to break into the house we were moving out of. Twice in one night. I have never packed and move out of a space faster than that house.)

So while we are going to try to tackle some of the boxes this weekend, this coming week will be mostly dedicated to home organization. It’s increasingly important to me that I get rid of as many boxes as humanly possible, so my inner control freak and organizational stickler can stay friends with my inner Buddha. Also because, as my husband pointed out, it would be really nice to use our stuff!

“Home is where the heart is, even if you can’t remember which box you packed it in.” – Author Unknown

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