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Friday, December 16, 2016

My life in boxes

I hate packing. I hate packing for trips, and I especially hate packing to move.

I have a love-hate relationship with my stuff. There is too much of it, and I hate getting rid of it. I think a lot of people feel this way, but it's really brought to the forefront when you have to literally lay hands on everything single thing you own and somehow make it fit into a 15 foot truck.

On top of having to pack up everything, I am also trying to hold down a farm and raise an infant with just my mother for help (and a big help she is, don't get me wrong). This is a crazy time in my life. Thank goodness I don't have to hold down a real job at the same time. As it is, I feel like I am chipping away at a granite mountain with a butter knife here.

The baby needs almost constant care. I hate that I have to feel guilty spending any extra time interacting with my baby boy beyond feeding and diaper changes. If I had my druthers, I'd spend every second of the day gazing into his beautiful little face and striving to make him give me his rare and precious giggles. Stealing away even a few hours to put things in boxes some days feels like an complete impossibility.

If all goes according to plan, in 10 days it will all be over. We'll be stuffing all this stuff into moving truck number 3 and saying goodbye to our farm here in Louisiana. When we get there, I'm not doing a damn thing beyond the essentials for at least a week!



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