a tiny moving rant.

Well, the rant won’t be particularly moving.

Nope… it’s ABOUT moving.

And people.

The next person who acts like getting movers to move our stuff is akin to bathing in caviar and strands of saffron, or using $100 bills to dry our hands, or never wearing a pair of socks more than once… is going to get a poke in the nose.

I’ve moved 5 times in 5 years, one of which was a 3,000 mile move. I’m over it. I mean, I’m still cheerful, and I’m excited about where we’re going, but the process itself? Yeah.

The move is on a workday, too. Did you want to give up a day of your pay / vacation (summertime!) to come help? It’s okay — you don’t even have to consider it, because I’M NOT ASKING!

I’m 37 years old. Using a service to save time and pain in an area that drives me nuts should be okay by now, right?

Anyone who goes out to eat more than a few nights a month (why don’t you just cook?), hires a cleaning person (why don’t you clean your own place?) has a gym membership (why don’t you just run around the block?), takes their family to Disneyland (why don’t you entertain them yourself?), or even drives a car (why don’t you take the bus or train? Or walk?) should get it. Yes, they’re not perfect comparisons, but each one makes something in your life easier to accomplish, according to your priorities.

I don’t do any of those things, and you don’t see me poking you about it, right?

There. I feel better.

Back to packing and cleaning and being a quieter grouch.

time flies.

I’m not sure I was always having fun, but time flew anyway.

In the last few months, I’ve changed my title twice at work, added new responsibilities to my job, worked for more than a handful of freelance clients (with all that “spare time” I have), searched for (and found!) a new apartment for our wee family (which is not so wee anymore, now that both boys have long monkey arms and tend to take up as much space as they can without exerting themselves) in a new neighborhood, searched for movers who could handle our (not much) stuff on an odd day of the week, figured out our two-phase wedding plan (and got our parents on board, because, well, they need to come)…

…and ultimately, tried to make all of these things co-exist without going off the deep end.

(I think I dangled my feet off the deep end a few times, actually. I just didn’t dive in.)

When I lie in bed at night, however exhausted I might be, I think through all the details and the to-dos and the people I have to contact about all the plates that are spinning in my personal and work life, and my head and my heart start to pound. I’ve never been particularly good at sleeping, but now I know it’s not the same old insomnia — nope, my brain is just too full.

But.

I’m thankful for all of it. Deeply thankful.

I want the man, the marriage, the family, the home, the job, and everything else that comes with them, whether or not I have a thousand tiny coronaries in a day trying to keep it all together. Sure, I accelerated into things that most people like to spread across a decade, but hey… I like a challenge.

Better crazy than bored.

Better overwhelmed than underused.

Better going forward than getting stuck.

Better loved than… anything.

Better that time should fly than pass me by.