Buried

I've been living in boxes for over a month. I'll admit, I'm a little tired of it. Who wouldn't be? Maybe there's someone out there, but I just feel buried.

As I told my roommate on Tuesday night (or was it last night?), I feel like we need more closets - but that won't happen. I don't know where I got all this stuff, or where to put it. We have a storage closet, but my organizing brain is fearing that it isn't large enough. It is also fearing any attempt to put shelves up - the cost, the work involved (I don't trust myself with shelves...build a dresser, a bookshelf, a dollhouse, sure, but put up level shelves? No way, Jack.) and so on. Some how it will all work out. I got rid of the not necessaries before I moved, and am confident that I kept the things I will want/need, and not the things I could do without ever seeing again.

*breathe*

Ok, that being said, despite feeling buried, we are making good progress. We have a functional living room, with a few boxes that need to be taken down to said storage area once all is finished being unpacked, and a kitchen that one of our good friends unpacked for us - such a blessing! I was able to paint in my room, and have it dried before the moving of furniture, and am excited to have a bit of color, and not be stuck in whiteness again/still/always. I just have to figure out a few logistical things in my closet, and unpack the 10 1/2 boxes of books (yes, for real).

I'm hoping tonight is the night that I finish. I have grand plans. Whenever that time comes, you can bet I'll be celebrating. I'd like to break the record - the last time I moved I was completely unpacked in 2 weeks. Saturday makes 1. Goal created.

And slightly feared.