PACKING AND HOARDING: AND THE DIFFERENCE IS ...

I have forgotten just how big a bitch it is to move because I haven't moved in fifteen years.  I still have a couple of weeks to pack, but I'm at the point where some of the junk I own is actually planning its own move.

No, truly.

Take the hose, for example.  I bought a hose years ago to use it attached to the landlord's outdoor water spigot.  I wanted to do simple things, like wash my car.  Hose wasn't long enough.  So, I went out and bought an even longer hose, but then the outdoor spigot got damaged somehow, so the landlord's leaky old hose ended up becoming permanent.  Now I am stuck with two garden hoses, neither of which I can use, one of which is still brand-spanking new in its original packaging.  Maybe someday I'll need a hose and then I'll kick myself if I get rid of either one.  Apparently, this means the hoses are moving with me.

What about the multiple containers of fabric freshener spray?  I'm quite certain that the bottles are really old, so they'll probably end up in the trash.  However, I only had one child still living with me for a long, long time, and, even though he played sports, he was away at college playing those sports for a long, long time.  Three bottles of fabric spray for his lacrosse and soccer bags?  I think not.  Where did the damn bottles come from, and why, oh, why, do I still have them (all half-full)?  These will not  be moving with me.

I am obsessed with packing each box to its maximum capacity without being so overweight that I cannot lift anything.  Yes, I have thirteen boxes of books, but they're mid-size boxes, manageable if even a little heavy.  But I figure it's better to pack books safely and with a positive weight distribution rather than have the moving company suffer hernias.

It takes forever to pack, though.  I zip through packing a few boxes and think, "Wow, I got a lot done.  I must be pretty far into packing.  I must be about ..." And then I realize that those few boxes haven't even made a dent in what I own.  Not even a smidgen.

Okay, I should be fair.  I'm trying to keep the boxes relatively uniform in size and weight.  Then I come across my skates.  I have old figure skates, two pairs of hockey skates, and in-line skates that need new wheels.  I can only fit two pairs to a box, so I end up packing other stuff into the boxes to fill any random space; other stiff like my beach rock collection.  How do I mark that box?  "Blades and Boulders"? If I write on the box that it is literally full of rocks, won't the moving company employees be agitated?  Yeah, I'll mark that box "Skates+" and be done with it.

I do get the basement completely cleaned out and swept, so there is that.  And, I'm probably going to piss off the trash collectors with another full sidewalk of bags and miscellany.  This alone should be proof-positive that I am trying, truly trying, to thin out my life's possessions.

In the meantime, my home looks like an episode of hoarders.  There are boxes and random unpacked items cluttering every room, and sometimes I have to step over stuff to get from one room to another.  If there's a fire, I'll be hard-pressed to access a window.  But, if there's a fire, I'll certainly have a lot less to move.

I am going to go shower the cobwebs out of my hair now.  Please watch my stuff.  I'm starting to suspect my belongings are multiplying when my back is turned.  I'll continue to fill, tag, and tape boxes as fast as I possibly can, but until this move actually takes place, I will continue to suspect that my possessions are plotting to smother me if I throw out or donate one more item.  If you don't hear from me in a week, send help.  Ill probably be trapped under a pile of useless and already boxed-up junk.