Not that I thought about it that much, but I was a teeny bit relieved to head for the east coast after weeks and weeks of packing, moving, and unpacking – but now I’ve discovered that my parents (who moved two months ago) need LOTS of help unpacking. I realized yesterday that I was actually in a much better position moving from a 1,100 square foot house to a 2,000 square foot foot condo than my folks who are moving from a 5,400 square foot home to a 3,400 square foot condo.
While I’m still getting rid of lots of stuff as I unpack, even furniture, there is still a sensation of expansion as we settle into the new place. My poor mom on the other hand, who has boxes upon boxes of things accumulated from a family of five – without any regard to conserving space – now has to trim about three roomfuls of STUFF out of her life. I say “poor,” but how sorry can you feel for somebody who moves from six walk-in closets to three? (I’m just guessing at numbers of closets here – if I stop and actually count closets I will be too mortified to post the real numbers.) There is not even enough room in the new house for the mountains of boxes they brought; and this is after they hired somebody who spent two days carting away things from the old house before the move.
It’s difficult going. She’s handing Sue and I crystal bowls like hot potatoes, and passing along whole sets of dishes – still we’ve barely made a dent. We did manage to empty the garage enough to fit her car and the golf cart yesterday though, and we’re proud of that. Dad made a Herculean run this morning to the thrift store and we’re filling boxes for the next run.
The upside to being here as they’re just moving in: lots of firsts to celebrate. We ate in the formal dining room for the first time last night and Joss cooked up a scrumptious chicken roast with plenty of roasted garlic, scallions, parsnips, and potatoes. We roasted the bones afterwards to make soup for today. For dessert, Bella made (is learning to make) chocolate sauce from scratch under Joss’ close tutelage.
In any case, helping somebody ELSE move, haranguing somebody ELSE to get rid of clutter is still a sight easier than getting rid of your own.