Today I write within this online journal with the hopes of committing my fears to the digital medium and as such purging them from my system so I can keep my mind on work. I don’t know if it will work but it can not hurt to try.
I don’t know if there is an art to moving. I know there is an art to packing, and I don’t appear to have the finesse to master that art. I see closets and just want to put everything in it in to a box. Mark it hall closet. Move on to the next zone. This drives my wife nuts. Don’t blame her. Can’t help it though.
This pattern of bad packing is culminated in the shed/garage. The ultimate home for crap, especially for a pack rat. Maybe that is why I am not good at packing. I hoarde things. I have boxes of wires and cables and things. Do I need them? Inside I tell myself yes. In reality I know it isn’t true.
So yeah, the shed. I couldn’t find my audio mixer after the last move and in the process of searching for it I decimated the shed. On top of all of the packing inside I have to unload and repack the shed. My mind toils on the right way to do this. The fastest way to do this. I don’t waste time with the easiest way to do this because the only easy way is to burn it. Gasoline, match, done. Not the desireable way to go though. Kind of dangerous too. Real easy though.
Damn. I hade more here. Writing about it did help. Feel better about the forthcoming chaos.