Which is worse?
Packing to move or unpacking on the other end?
For the last few weeks it was the packing. But the movers came yesterday and disgorged the material trappings of our consumerist existence into our new rent-a-place. So today the unpacking is worse, I guess. Context is everything.
One of our couches won’t fit into the house. Okay, I take that back – it will fit in the living room where the other, larger couch is, and where it really doesn’t fit with our design concept. And it will fit in the dining room, where it poses unwanted challenges to conventional Modernist understandings of function. All of which adds up to our couch spending the next year, at least, in my sister’s basement. Unless somebody wants to make us an offer.
Back to the unpack, Jack….
lullaby pit 
Unpacking is always worse. Presumably because you think you have all the time in the world to unpack … and then when you are moving again, you discover still-packed boxes (of course, this may just happen if you spend the first few years of your adult life as a nomad, like I did).
Unpacking is always worse. Presumably because you think you have all the time in the world to unpack … and then when you are moving again, you discover still-packed boxes (of course, this may just happen if you spend the first few years of your adult life as a nomad, like I did).
Brian and I will get back to you on that in about a week. Right now it’s the packing that sucks.
Brian and I will get back to you on that in about a week. Right now it’s the packing that sucks.