Oh, the boxes. THE BOXES! Sigh. It’s like a never ending sea of cube-shaped beige-ness in our old mauve house right now. When will we be unpacked? Soon, perhaps. Maybe eventually. Possibly never? Afterall, we never did fully unpack from our move into our last house – we found boxes that were still packed up from nearly three years ago while preparing to sell our little 1940s home.
It’s sad, and a little embarrassing, and quite true.
This time, on the unpacking list of priorities, our kitchen came first, followed by our bedroom. Sadly everything else is still in boxes. Our dining room, our living room, the spare bedroom, the office… The miscellaneous furniture, the random boxes, the extra stuff… it’s everywhere.
Please let me present to you Exhibit A: our living room…
Ack eh? Yep, definitely ACK.
It’s absolute madness.
My friend Jess (who blogs over at Little Townhome Love) would have had her entire house unpacked by now. And she’s probably chortling away (in her lovely, clutter-free living room) at my terribly unorganized and unpacked state as we speak (hi Jess! Love you!) Jess is an expert unpacker. She has unpacking skills that I will never ever ever master. She’s like an unpacking ninja, some might say. Others might call her the great relocation guru. She’s crazy for corrugation. She’s bonkers for bubblewrap. She can unpack an entire house in one, two days tops. She’s darn impressive, that’s for sure.
Am I jealous? Absolutely. She has unpacking panache that I will never be able to match.
Me? I’m a (painfully) slow unpacker. And I’ve fully accepted my box-engulfed fate for the next week. Or two. Or twenty. I’m sure eventually I’ll be unpacked. I hope.
Until then, look for me under the sea of cardboard.