All of this recent talk about self-driving cars has got me thinking, why on earth has no one invented self-packing suitcases yet? Driving a car is really not an inconvenience. Moving is a nightmare. Since I left home at 17, I have gone through the process of moving all of my earthly possessions an innumerable amount of times.
Ok, maybe not so innumerable. I have done the official count (using all of my fingers and some of my toes) and the grand total is fourteen. FOURTEEN times! I’ve moved fourteen times in the past seven years. Tonight, for the fifteenth time, I find myself slipping into the old routine. It goes something like this:
Step One: Wait until the last possible moment.
Step Two: Drink an ungodly amount of caffeine
Step Three: Find any smaller and seemingly more manageable task to distract yourself from the actual task at hand
Step Four: Organize and pack every item possible before your heavy eyelids refuse to tolerate any more resistance and you are forced to submit to sleep
Step Five: Push all remaining clutter off of the organizational epicenter (aka, bed)*
Step Six: Crawl in
Step Seven: Pass out
*If exhaustion is too strong and you are unable to clear off the bed, just push the junk over and make a little space for yourself to sleep in. Finish packing in the morning.
Although, like most, I consider the process of moving a special kind of hell, there’s also something undeniably therapeutic about it. While rifling through old keepsakes, we are reminded of so many good times and good people. Moving also gives us an opportunity to take a good hard look at the objects we are lugging around and determine whether or not their essential in our lives. If not, we (hopefully) chuck them out, simplifying our lives (and making room for new junk).
The last night in any apartment always feels a little surreal and tonight is no exception. Tomorrow evening, Jeff and I will head down to Santiago on an extremely long bus ride through the Atacama desert. We will spend about a week and half bouncing back between Valparaíso, Viña del Mar and Santiago. On the third of January, Jeff will sadly head back to the USA and I will…well, as usual, I don’t know what I will do.
I’ve become accustomed to dealing with a certain amount of uncertainty in my life as of late and, although it is a bit overwhelming at times, I’m trying to roll with the punches. I’m still waiting to hear from the academy about my possible contract up in the mine. In the meantime, I’m keeping my options open and considering either coming back to Iquique to teach Summer school kids’ classes or heading South to explore (and possibly find work there). As usual, I’ll keep ya’ll posted as plans progress.
As for now, I’m just glad to say that we all officially made it through another apocalypse. This may be the end of another chapter, but it’s certainly not the end of the word.
See this post in all of its original glory at www.snailonaleash.blogspot.com