Buried In Boxes

Shoot. What day is it today?

Saturday? The moving truck dumped all our stuff here, at my MIL's house, early on Wednesday.

But we've still got a ton of work to do in terms of unpacking and whatnot. You see, this is essentially a full house here we moved into. The MIL emptied out the three bedrooms (and a chunk of her basement and attic) but still a lot of our earthly possessions need to be *managed*.

The movers deposited most of the boxes in the attic and the garage and we are in the process of unpacking them and making decisions: store, replace what's already here, sell, donate, or trash. Even though the boxes were labeled somewhat, we still really have no idea what's in each one until we unwrap all the contents. Heck, they packed the pegs for my shelves in a box (instead of taping them to THE SHELVES!) and I had to waste a back-breaking hour in the steamy attic looking for them. Because until my shelves were up I couldn't unpack my books or pictures that adorn them - like a butterfly effect.

Anyways, we're over the hump work-wise now, I think. Although we still have a ton of little things to do: change license plates, drivers' licenses, get train parking stickers, join the local homeschool group, register my son with the local school administration (for homeschooling), get FiOS,....and defibrillate my MIL!

People say that moving is a PIA or that it's hard work.

Of course I disagree somewhat. Sure it's disruptive, but we would all benefit from more disruption in our soft daily existences. It's therapeutic to purge material belongings; and it's healthy to be forced to rebuild one's social network once in a while. This will be my sixth abode in the past nine years (Philly to Brooklyn to Charlotte to Newton(MA)to South Shore(MA)to Long Island). Almost every move was a non-mistake; each one took me to a superior place for that particular time in my life (though Newton, MA is firmly entrenched in last place!). Long Island is a place I've long loathed for its traffic, lack of golf, steep prices, shallow people, and what I perceived as a ludicrous go-go mentality. If one had told me, even a year ago, that I'd be voluntarily moving here AND that I'd be extremely excited about doing so I'd brand them a Moron.

But it's all true and genuine - my enthusiasm.

So where exactly did I move?

Well, I'm on the border of Port Washington and Manhasset. That's the north shore, just a couple towns removed from Queens. Bill O'Reilly lives right down the street (on the water, I believe) and old pal Barry Ritholtz lives just one town over!

Maybe Barry will hire me to tutor his litter!?