Smells like Corrugated Cardboard

It's so appropriate, Nights in White Satin just came on the radio. This was a personal theme song during the summer of the first move I really remember. I was switching bedrooms in our house. The flowery wall paper of my younger days was coming down, and I'd chosen a bright yellow paint to dress the room in its place. Things were disheveled, but the little silver radio was set to Oldies 100.9 and life was good.

Moving is officially up there on the list of "most stressful events in a person's life". Certainly, my mind has been working overtime figuring out the logistics of u-haul trucks, scheduled apartment building moving times, boxspring deliveries and the like. My patience has been wearing a little thinner.

But there is something oddly comforting about having everything I own neatly packed into boxes. My belongings are just few enough to make moving manageable, and there is satisfaction in this. I can fold myself up and move with relative ease (provided I have some seriously amazing friends who are willing to exchange sweat for beer. THANK YOU). It's a sense of self-sufficiency. I am master of my domain. My belongings do not own me, yet. Nights in White Satin is playing on the radio and life is good.