On the Eve of Moving Day...
Mar. 29th, 2005 11:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sarcasticwriterI am now in that medium-high panic mode of moving, where there are a few things left to be done that cannot be done until the last minute (packing sheets, towels, etc). I am also in a panic because despite having packed more or less very, very well...I'm not totally through. I have some pictures still hanging on my walls (six, to be precise), that need to be wrapped and put in picture packet boxes, and then I have like three or four very large framed prints in the closet that I just forgot about because they were behind some stuff.
Super irritatingly, I have some boxes that are almost tippy-top full, but I don't know what else to put in them. And the problem with not fully loading boxes is that it makes them weak at the top and unstable. I'm sure I'll find something to put in them but at the moment I'm still clinging to the hope that I might keep boxes reasonably themed and be able to keep them straight.
Also...
At risk of frightening those who volunteered to help me move...
The box pile that I have been stacking Tetris-like in the living room...it makes me nauseous. I thought I had a reasonable amount of "stuff." I thought I didn't have "stuff" that I didn't want. Lord knows, I didn't discard much this move.
But it seems like I have a lot of boxes. Maybe it's because they're not in my room, or stacked on furniture, but tightly packed together, and so seem more plentiful than they are. Emotionally they seem like a lot, but I can't seem to get a grasp on them intellectually. For a bedroom that was 11'4" by 11'4", with a closet about 4' by 2,' they seem like a veritable fuckload of boxes. On the other hand, how much can possibly be put into a room 11'4" by 11"4 and still look attractive? One would think, not a lot. And so therefore, there should not be so many boxes.
This is the paradox.
And before you say I'm packing more than my bedroom - well, I am. I have one small box for the bath, three for the kitchen. That's it for the house boxes. I can fit those in my car with nary a la-dee-da.
God, look at the way I'm writing. Can you see I'm going a wee bit mad?
Mad-crazy and mad-pissed. I'm actually getting pissed at some of my stuff. There is some stuff I don't see unless I'm moving, like my X-Files collectibles and my stuffed animals. While the stuffed animals more or less represent my childhood, and so are worth moving, the X-Files stuff almost got the boot. None of it is worth anything at the moment, and the show was so well-marketed that I don't think, say, the X-Files comics are all that rare. Or the complete collection of cards. Or...well, you get the idea. When I was into that show, I was into that show. I have two scrapbooks of just about every article, advertisment, and mention of X-Files in magazines, newspapers, comic strips, etc, etc, etc. It's well done, and it has lots of early-Internet pre-affordable scanner pictures, which I suppose are sort of rare from magazines.
But...is it worth anything? Ebay has actually destroyed the marketplace for some genres by suppling more than there's a demand for. But does that mean this won't be worth more later?
God damn it, it's hard to tell. I just want to give it away. Even though I spent a scary amount of money and time putting this collection together, I have an aversion to the show now and don't even want to look over it for myself. But I also have this nightmare of chucking everything today, only to discover ten to twenty years from now some particular item is worth an obscene amount of money. And there is the collector's attitude about the collection. The scrapbooks are DAMN impressive, and I just can't...just can't toss them. If they can bring somebody else joy, I want that person to have them.
ARGH!
I'm also getting kind of scared that my father and brother are going to look at the stack of boxes and flip out. Or that...having stacked them in the living room, I might not have left enough space to get my furniture out. Wow. That's a nice thought.
Okay, anxiety getting worse. I'm so glad I have to try to get some rest now before they get here at 11:00 AM (it's 5:00 AM as I write this).
ETA - fuck me. I've just looked up the Uhaul truck sizes. I got the smallest one, a 10' truck that is "apartment" sized, at 368 cubic feet. They recommend having 15 boxes for your move. 15. I have...*cough* more than 15 boxes. And furniture. Does "apartment" sized mean studio apartment? I don't even have a table and chairs, or a computer desk, or a little sofa or anything like that! They call their next size "1-2 Bedrooms," which I assume means room for a whole 1-2 bedroom apartment, too.
Oh, Christ, oh, Christ, oh, Christ.
Forget medium-grade panic, I am in full-on high grade panic now. Forget packing, the idea of unloading this stuff and unpacking it is literally having a stomach-twisting physical effect on me. You know it's bad when you are half-wishing that your truck is stolen or something so that you can just cash in the disaster protection insurance and be freed from your stuff.
Super irritatingly, I have some boxes that are almost tippy-top full, but I don't know what else to put in them. And the problem with not fully loading boxes is that it makes them weak at the top and unstable. I'm sure I'll find something to put in them but at the moment I'm still clinging to the hope that I might keep boxes reasonably themed and be able to keep them straight.
Also...
At risk of frightening those who volunteered to help me move...
The box pile that I have been stacking Tetris-like in the living room...it makes me nauseous. I thought I had a reasonable amount of "stuff." I thought I didn't have "stuff" that I didn't want. Lord knows, I didn't discard much this move.
But it seems like I have a lot of boxes. Maybe it's because they're not in my room, or stacked on furniture, but tightly packed together, and so seem more plentiful than they are. Emotionally they seem like a lot, but I can't seem to get a grasp on them intellectually. For a bedroom that was 11'4" by 11'4", with a closet about 4' by 2,' they seem like a veritable fuckload of boxes. On the other hand, how much can possibly be put into a room 11'4" by 11"4 and still look attractive? One would think, not a lot. And so therefore, there should not be so many boxes.
This is the paradox.
And before you say I'm packing more than my bedroom - well, I am. I have one small box for the bath, three for the kitchen. That's it for the house boxes. I can fit those in my car with nary a la-dee-da.
God, look at the way I'm writing. Can you see I'm going a wee bit mad?
Mad-crazy and mad-pissed. I'm actually getting pissed at some of my stuff. There is some stuff I don't see unless I'm moving, like my X-Files collectibles and my stuffed animals. While the stuffed animals more or less represent my childhood, and so are worth moving, the X-Files stuff almost got the boot. None of it is worth anything at the moment, and the show was so well-marketed that I don't think, say, the X-Files comics are all that rare. Or the complete collection of cards. Or...well, you get the idea. When I was into that show, I was into that show. I have two scrapbooks of just about every article, advertisment, and mention of X-Files in magazines, newspapers, comic strips, etc, etc, etc. It's well done, and it has lots of early-Internet pre-affordable scanner pictures, which I suppose are sort of rare from magazines.
But...is it worth anything? Ebay has actually destroyed the marketplace for some genres by suppling more than there's a demand for. But does that mean this won't be worth more later?
God damn it, it's hard to tell. I just want to give it away. Even though I spent a scary amount of money and time putting this collection together, I have an aversion to the show now and don't even want to look over it for myself. But I also have this nightmare of chucking everything today, only to discover ten to twenty years from now some particular item is worth an obscene amount of money. And there is the collector's attitude about the collection. The scrapbooks are DAMN impressive, and I just can't...just can't toss them. If they can bring somebody else joy, I want that person to have them.
ARGH!
I'm also getting kind of scared that my father and brother are going to look at the stack of boxes and flip out. Or that...having stacked them in the living room, I might not have left enough space to get my furniture out. Wow. That's a nice thought.
Okay, anxiety getting worse. I'm so glad I have to try to get some rest now before they get here at 11:00 AM (it's 5:00 AM as I write this).
ETA - fuck me. I've just looked up the Uhaul truck sizes. I got the smallest one, a 10' truck that is "apartment" sized, at 368 cubic feet. They recommend having 15 boxes for your move. 15. I have...*cough* more than 15 boxes. And furniture. Does "apartment" sized mean studio apartment? I don't even have a table and chairs, or a computer desk, or a little sofa or anything like that! They call their next size "1-2 Bedrooms," which I assume means room for a whole 1-2 bedroom apartment, too.
Oh, Christ, oh, Christ, oh, Christ.
Forget medium-grade panic, I am in full-on high grade panic now. Forget packing, the idea of unloading this stuff and unpacking it is literally having a stomach-twisting physical effect on me. You know it's bad when you are half-wishing that your truck is stolen or something so that you can just cash in the disaster protection insurance and be freed from your stuff.
