Here it is. The wall. Like in a marathon, when you hit mile 20 and just can't seem to run another step (or so I hear). Except ours is much more concrete, and gives the house that unsettled look, though we tried to hide it behind the rocking horse.
The unpacking has slowed to a crawl. All the easy stuff is unpacked. All the bookcases and drawers are full. And yet there are still so very many boxes remaining. I keep telling myself "do not fear your stuff; it all fit somewhere in the old place, and this place is no smaller."
It's easy to unpack a box of books into a bookcase. The problem comes when the box (marked "kitchen" probably) holds 20 copies of Papercup Mixmaster's last Album, a waffle iron, and all those 1" high rubber alien guys we used to keep on a windowsill. Now that we no longer have a garage, it all has to actually go someplace.
The wall emerged when we decided to corral them all into one place, so that now there are many "box free" rooms in the house. I've started to approach the boxes from a mining point of view. Somewhere behind the layer of "books that are going to go in that bookcase we ordered which the furniture store says will surely be here in 6-8 weeks" there is real ore. That cookbook that has my potato soup recipe. My favorite pencils. We mined pretty much all of Wuggy Norple's toys early on, but occasionally we hit a new vein, and voila! A great set of castle-building blocks to surprise and delight.
Probably if I have a banana and dump a cup of water over my head I can push trough this.
-E.P.T
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