Limping back from Boxageddon.

Whew.  We're moved.

Third place in two and a half years, but hopefully we're settled for a bit.

I am currently surrounded by boxes. Weird piles of clothes (I think they're clothes) are currently making a foothill in a corner of the master bedroom.  The Boy's room — well, it's more of a mountain, and I don't think it's clothes.

The kitchen… holy hell, don't get me started on the kitchen.

At least the living room's fairly clean.  Sparse.

Because, you know, we've still got a small mountain range of unpacking elsewhere in the house.

Metaphor for my life, y'all.

Because you know I love me a good metaphor.

It seems like my life has been in one big state of flux, especially recently, which I posted about.  I am coming up with systems.  I've taken on new projects.  I'm closing off old ones.

It's like a cross between synchronized swimming and fighting a rip tide.

I'm currently wading through boxes.  Sometimes organization wins.  Sometimes, I get bitchslapped by a file cabinet.  Hopefully still metaphorically.  (Ouchie, moving bruises.)

The bottom line is, at some point I'll have the boxes unpacked, and the house will be in a semblance of order, and things will sort of shake out as they should.  In my perfect world, the house would look like a cross between a loft in Paris and a hobbit hole, cozy and comfy.  My office would be an Arts & Crafts reading room with a huge and deliciously organized desk, the Boy would have a palatial playland, and we'd be living in a provincial paradise.

But as I was falling asleep last night, it sort of hit me.

Everything's temporary.

Including this house.  We're going to move — not soon, we hope, and not out of area.  But at some point, all of this will be in boxes again, and there will be a new system, and a new transition.

The trick, apparently, is to be okay with whatever state — packed, unpacked.  Foothills of chaos and spreadsheet-like order.

It's just there.  Yes, it's annoying as hell to have no microwave and discover the oven's broken.  Yes, I wish I remember which box I packed the book I was reading.  And I'm quite sure The Boy had more underwear than that before we relocated.

But it's just there.

It's just annoyance.  It's just moving.

It's just life, right?

And for tonight, I'm having a whoopie pie, a cup of tea, and I'm snuggling into bed.  Because sometimes, life calls for it.