Moving Concluding

Goal: to blog about moving in 20 minutes.
Setting: Personal Project Night at Danaya's, where we get together and get stuff done. I've spend the first hour and a bit addressing moving announcements. I should go soon, but if I don't do this here, I'm not sure when I'll get to it. (Oh no, two minutes gone already?!)

So, moving. I'm moved in. It's nice. I'm not unpacked and there's a bunch of work left to do at my old place, but I'm getting settled and I'm enjoying it. I'm just tired, and not so motivated to do more work. Sigh.

I had a couple of pre-moving parties before my actual moving party on Saturday. These were really lovely. They consisted in inviting a friend or two at a time to meet at my old place, loading up each of our cars with boxes, going over to my new place, unloading and having a tour, and then going out for coffee or something together. I felt like I wasn't asking all that much of them (it's possible they'll disagree though...) - it wasn't an endless moving party that couldn't end until all the work was done, and it gave them a chance to be involved in this important time of my life in a setting where we could spend some one-on-one time together and they were needed - no getting lost in the shuffle and not knowing what to do. I feel like the people who are important in my life should be involved in the moments that are important in my life, and I valued these mini-moving parties.

My major moving party was on the weekend and was pretty successful. My Mom came up for it, and it was really nice to have her. There was unfortunately still a bunch of moving left to be done (I hoped falsely that most of it would be completed by then), and I unfortunately wasn't feeling well (I almost always face the bane of women's existence during moving parties, and this was no exception). My friends worked tirelessly to haul stuff outside and arrange stuff in cars and the truck while I tried to pack up the loose ends inside. I felt like I wasn't pulling my weight, but I don't think I could have managed all those stairs and I was so grateful for their help.

Stairs. That's been the worst thing about this moving experience: stairs. 29 stairs to get things out of my old apartment, 35 stairs from top to bottom at the new place. I'm tired of stairs.

Ding! Time's up! And I'm out of things to say, so that worked out nicely. =)