Moving is the pits.

I always have really mixed feelings about moving. I hate packing. I love organizing. I love unpacking.

The Reeses are in completely-totally-oh-so-excited-moving-mode. I can't wait.

No, we still haven't closed on the house, but it's coming--and the lease ends at the end of the month. So it's time to get a move on it. Especially if you like to move the way I do (one box at a time.)

In the past seven years since high school, I have never lived in a location for more than a year--until I got my apartment in Portland. We've been here for about two years, and boy have we accumulated a ton of crap.

The first of many garbage/recycling piles.

But then there's the little joys of moving. The little memories you find. The little pieces you forgot you had.

This is one of the first pieces of jewelry Ben bought for me. Awwww.

But then, there's the ton of crap that is neccesary, but totally bogs down the moving process. When my apartment looks like this, I usually start Google-ing professional movers...

UGHHHHHH. CHAOS.

Finally got one box packed. Then I realized I spelled 'jewelry' totally wrong.
Jewelary? Really, Lauren?

Eventually I reclaimed the living room, but it took about 5 hours and two Venti iced coffees. Woof.

 

Mischief managed.
Sort of.