Moving Ordeals

I am positive that most people, at one point in time, have moved. Either it be into another room in the same house, across the street, across the country, etc.

But still, I think I hate it more than the average person. I hate packing. I hate shoving my life, my memories into boxes. Its unrealistic that one person should be able to do it and keep their sanity. I go through all of my stuff, getting rid of all of my items that mean nothing to me, and yet still, I am stuck with lots of stuff.

I dont mean stuff I wont use. I mean stuff that I have some wierd, irrational attachment to. Like a blanket from someone who is not even family anymore. I mean, I love the blanket, and its pretty, but its old now, mainly from me sleeping with it almost every night for about 7 years. But I cannot throw it away. It has a few holes and is faded. But I just cant. I sleep horrible without it. I have tried finding similar  blankets. No Luck. Nope. I am stuck with this one. This crummy blanket that reminds me of everything sad, and I cant part from it. It was handmade and well made, but frankly I get irritated when I have to wash it, because that means a night of sleeping horrible without it. (yeah this whole paragraph makes me sound like a five year old.)

It is not just the blanket either. Its other things. Chairs that were gifts. Pictures that mean nothing other than the sayings on them. Irrational crap. Emotional, irrational crap.

I am stuck with it. Emotional Physical Baggage. EPB. That does not even include the other emotional baggage I have. At least that can be dealt with.


So I trudge along, packing. Carrying my EPB with me to another place.

So sick of moving. Of going through stuff. YUCK.

So here is to another night of sleeping with the irrational blanket.