Moving completely overwhelms me. I look around the house and cannot even begin to think about where to start.

My husband handles things much better. He is an engineer and he packs like an engineer.  He picks up the things and puts them into the boxes and then picks up more things, and puts them into the boxes, in an effort to perfectly fill every available space in a box, like tetris. And so our boxes are not categorized by type of item or room in the house, but by items that fit, perfectly, together. The rocks from our outdoor heater are not packed with the gardening supplies, but with picture frames. Thankfully, he also uses very specific labeling, so that we will know to look for the vacuum bags in the box with the winter clothes.

Dan also had a couple of extra days to pack, while I was still finishing up the week at work, and so, consequently, he has done more than his fair share, and our conversations go like this:

“Where is the spatula?”

“Oh, you mean the long-skinny? It’s packed.”