Somewhere Between

Before our recent move, I spent months dreaming about leaving our fairly tiny house and living in a middling to larger one. We considered our housing somewhat temporary, so much of our stuff was stored in a shed or tucked away in closets where we didn’t really have access to it. In our new house, I fantasized, there would be space for everything. All the materials for the kids’ activities and projects would be accessible. We’d have space for crafts and puzzles and books. I pictured creative space for everyone… and order.

Six days ago I finally achieved a state of somewhat-tidy in that new house… if you call boxes stacked haphazardly against the walls tidy. We were expecting company, and there’s nothing like a visit from Dad to encourage a cleared path through the living room. I reveled in it. For the first time in two and a half weeks I could walk from one end of the house to the other without leaping tall boxes or dodging loose items that had not yet found a home. I contemplated just living like this, cardboard boxes lining the walls as decor. So I still hadn’t found the stapler; one can survive without a stapler. Why worry about the one box of dry food goods I still had not unearthed; the bugs would eventually clean them up for me.

Eighteen hours later I found myself unpacking again in earnest. The kids wanted board games to play and I’d seen that box somewhere when re-stacking. As well, they had been banned from riding their bikes without helmets. Those had been tossed in a really big box and it shouldn’t have been hard to find.

Empty shelves fronted by stacks of boxes lined the walls of our new activity room. All I had to do was get to those shelves, and then I’d have a place for the contents of all those boxes.

I shoved. I dumped. My cleared paths became impossible to visualize. I opened. I sorted. I even got aggressive about throwing away the excess when I realized the shelves were filling faster than the boxes were emptying.

By the end of the day, I had arrived at complete chaos once again. The kitchen table, still centered in the activity room, was piled high with all the items I could not make a decision on. Numerous open boxes spilled across the living room floor, victims of that desperate search for a different pair of shoes, a favorite stuffed animal, the address book…

Over the days there were distractions, of course. Day-to-day laundry and dirty dishes continued to pile up no matter how much I declared that unpacking was more than enough job to keep me busy. I once again found myself clearing a path, this time for the plumber who spent almost an entire day with us. The kids and I had to take a day off for final errands at our old house and a break to play with our old friends. A new bed was delivered, but returned because it wouldn’t fit up our stairwell.

Now we are looking at the end of another week and pandemonium continues to reign. Next week, I keep thinking, I will get back to normal life. Next week, I’ll resume my routine, I’ll be done with endless hours of housekeeping, and I’ll finally know where all my stuff is.

Surely between the tidiness of my dreams and the chaos that is reality… there is a place I can call mine.



My B4B Entry.