in which Negative Nancy shuts up for a second

There is a particular blog I have been stalking recently, and in a nondescript post in a slew of pictures of small children and shoes and things cooking, was a particular photo of whoknowswhat with a blurry mug in the background.

I have that same mug, which I bought in my last days at World Market last year, which is not in this apartment as we speak, which means it is hopefully hibernating deep in the other half of our belongings that resides in our attic storage unit, aka My In-Laws Who Are Too Nice.

At least, I hope it is in said storage unit, because it could easily have been lost along the path of our long and messy exodus from Colorado last year. This has been a source of much frustration and helplessness and even maybe a few tears for me (directly followed by crumpling to the floor, surrounded by taped and untaped and retaped boxes, in total defeat). If I had known how this whole series of moves was going to pan out, I would have planned differently. That statement can be applied to every event in life, probably, but you'd think something as strategic as moving could be a little more organized.

But it just didn't happen that way. We brought some things we needed which were packed along with nonsense like all the cards I saved from our wedding (ALL of them), 85 mugs (but not the one mentioned earlier), a camping lantern, our wedding china (without owning a dining room table with which to host, mind you), and so on. We also brought a few things that failed to fit down the stairs, instead of, oh, a vacuum cleaner or a kitchen trash can (using an office one now) and turned around and drove it all right back over the border.

This would not have been as big of a deal if it wasn't snow squall season along our route, and if we hadn't already made three full trips moving crap, and if my father-in-law's trailer pretty much threw in the towel and DISENGAGED ON THE HIGHWAY at 65 mph. You get the picture, I hope.

All this to say: half our stuff is not here. Which is remarkably easy in a way, and wicked annoying in several other ways. But this is not the point of this post.

The point of this post is: I scrolled through this other blog. Saw the mug. Identified the mug. Experienced a sense of longing and confusion for a few seconds. But THEN, instead of going the collapse-in-a-teary-tantrum-heap route, I thought: "It will be so great when we finally do settle down in a normal sized house, with all our stuff under one roof, because unpacking it will feel like Christmas." You know, when you pack belongings away and forget you have them? That's half my stuff! INCLUDING everything literally Christmas-related!

This is a big step for me. Believe it.