As I make our final preparations for this move, I’m learning a lot about packing…and even more about myself.
Chiefly what I’m learning is that I am just phenomenally clumsy. Apparently, the only thing preventing me from seriously injuring myself normally is that we have large rooms and wide hallways. When these spaces are narrowed — by, say, stacks and stacks of boxes — I am incapable of moving from place to place without bodily harm. If I’m not dropping something on my foot, I’m smacking my head on something else. If I’m not stubbing my toe, I’m wedging my hand between my body and the wall hard enough to leave bruises. (Don’t even try to picture this. I’ve done it and I still can’t tell you how it works.)
Last night I dreamed we were in the new house. Even filled with boxes, there were still acres of space for me to walk through, unimpeded and unharmed. I can’t wait.
Assuming I live that long.
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