Moving seems to be a constant frame of life, life is always moving and people are always changing. However, that doesn't mean that I have to do so willingly, nor without much hesitance. I know that it is good, and in the end I am happy for the change in my life, and the step in the right direction, but the constant packing and cleaning, packing and cleaning, packing and cleaning is becoming a routine I'm not really enjoying.
Every time I stretch the roll of tape across the top of a box sealing in my things and memories, I think, gee, I can't wait to have to do this all over again. In fact, I'm going to be doing it all over again in a little less than a week. I enjoy the clear out of old stuff, and I feel the cleansing that moving brings, but for now, I'm going to be bitter, grumpy, and live my life in chaos.