At most times the neurotic, list-making, slightly obsessed with organisation freak-show in me is very useful. I get things done and get them done well. And it keeps me happy, all those lists. Ask the Fellow.
Unfortunately, for the first time (since I realised I’m happiest making lists), this slight obsession is more of a hindrance than anything else. I mean, one would assume that packing up house and moving could do with some super organisational skills and perfect lists about everything (down to the last clothes-pin) right? Wrong.
It’s been almost 2 weeks and I’m going nuts. You try packing your entire house into trunks and you shall know the feeling. You also try doing it in the most efficient and organised manner known to mankind and you’ll be checking into a mental health facility at the earliest. Believe me. I spent several days coming up with the best way of packing everything, and when I was done, I realised I might need about 45 more trunks and close to 4 months to get it all done perfectly. And even then, I wasn’t sure how I would go about unpacking it all.
And so for the last several days, most of my time has been spent standing in the middle of the house taking deep breaths and hoping that if I stayed still long enough, elves would sneak out from somewhere and get all the work done.
In the meantime, I shall continue making lists till it’s too late to do anything but throw everything in the boxes and be on our way. Sigh.
