GREAT EXPECTATIONS #4 - The Ps
Plan. Prepare. Purge. Pack. Pile. Perspire.
And yes, a little procrastination too.
As it always seems to do, logistics reared its ugly head and forced me to abandon my wool-gathering in order to address the practicalities of moving. My dad was always cautioning me - the consummate daydreamer - that only by meticulous planning, and careful adherence to that blueprint would I ever fulfil those hopes and dreams. Per his advice and, honestly, having no other choice, this week my focus has changed, to the Ps.
Between us, arrangements are now in place for banking, phone service (yes, we still keep a land line), hydro, water, gas, internet, television, property taxes, mail (forwarding) - all at both ends - plus two nights’ hotel accommodations. I’m sure we’ve forgotten something, but those are (we think) the main details.
(Enough golf bags/clubs, do you suppose?)
Planning is how we attempt to impose order on the chaotic relocation process.
The minutiae of dozens of schemes, all to be carried out in three short days, is chaotic in the extreme. Cam, bless his heart, has mapped out the entire move, right down to each box’ contents and which boxes will go in the movers’ van and which we’ll need to take with us in our vehicles. There are lists and timelines galore.
As for me, I firmly believe there’s a fine line between good planning and over-planning. Too many details in the plan implies you’ve got it all under control. As if! From experience, that notion is always a fallacy. Trouble always seems to come knocking on my door when I find myself relaxing into such complacency.
Regardless of which side of the fence you choose (more or less details and structure) all the planning and scheming ends at the exact moment the moving van pulls into the driveway. After that, the hyperdrive kicks in and any semblance of control vanishes.
Packing is now our main focus, but I’ve a confession: I cannot begin to tell you how often my mind wanders and my progress slows as I become distracted by nostalgic reflections. It is so easy to become lost in memories as I sort and carefully wrap our treasures ready for yet another ride in a moving van.
It’s a very strange feeling this; holding fast to and savouring the bits and bobs of our past whilst I’m packing and planning for the future. Happy anticipation mixed with a tug on my heartstrings and a lump in my throat. Sentimentality falls well within the purview of the aged and I’m entitled to my nostalgia because I am old!
With our pack-rat proclivity and our nostalgic attachment to everything old (you never know when you’re going to need this) and anything quirky (you’ll never get another one of those), purging is a slow and often unproductive process. Nevertheless, sentimental tendencies notwithstanding, packed boxes are pullulating in every room of the house, usually getting in the way of anything we need to get at, or do, and hampering progress.
The entire experience is bittersweet. Deep in my heart, I know that this is the right move, at the right time, even though it feels tumultuous at the moment.
’Til next time, y’all…
