As a kid one of my Mom’s favorite phrases was “Prior Planning Prevents Poor Performance.”
Forgot your lunch at school? She brought it to you, but not before reminding you that PPPPP.
Didn’t give yourself enough time to study? PPPPP.
Found yourself up against a deadline? PPPPP.
The phrase is drilled into my head and now I’m a planner. Probably (ok fine, yes) overly so, but I function best with a lot of prior planning. The only way my family eats dinner, I make it out the door with everything I need and Gracie gets lots of quality time with Mom and Dad is thanks to a lot of prior planning, preparation and lists. Sorry, lists don’t start with a P, but damn if I don’t rely on them daily.
Anyway. My point is that normally B and I are fairly scheduled out, know what is going on, etc., etc. Until it came to our upcoming move, and in that case we have been driving ourselves and everyone we know crazy.
Where are you moving? Have you found a place? When are you moving? Are you going to ask your parents to come? Do you need help? Have you scheduled movers?
For the past 4 months these questions have been met with hemming, hawing, hand flapping and general avoidance. (See what I did there? Alliteration, but we’ve moved on from the “p” set.) It makes perfect sense then that last week- on Wednesday evening to be exact- we decided to move this Friday. At the time we made that decision we had packed exactly zero boxes and the only “we are moving soon” task I’d completed was boxing up my maternity clothes (all but the yoga pants & 1 pair of maternity jeans because I have some serious jean-woes right now and desperately need to hightail it to the store for pants that don’t make me look like a baggy elephant or like I just traveled through time from 2003). Obviously the boxing of maternity clothes is not going to get us from point A to point B so now we are faced with packing our storage locker + 2 bedroom 2 bath place worth of stuff in a week.
Luckily, this bad boy arrives in the mail tonight:
The movers have been booked (B and I decided about a year ago that we are too old to bribe friends with pizza and beer to help us move, conversely, we are no longer bribe-able) and my fantastic friends (including the lovely Kristabella) have offered to come play with the baby in the evening hours so our hands are free to frantically throw things into box with
reckless abandon the utmost of care. We are ordering Gracie’s crib mattress, her dresser is set for pick up at the end of the week and I purchased shower curtains for the new place. My inlaws are coming to help us with the day of the actual move (and by help us I mean hang out with their grandbaby and granddog, don’t worry, we are not making them carry boxes). That and I took Thursday and Friday off of work to make myself a nice little 5 day weekend so hey, come next Tuesday morning, I will have boxes unpacked and artwork hung SO HELP ME. Mostly because then my parents are coming and we have birthdays, weddings and Gracie’s baptism (which includes many great-grandparents, all grandparents and godparents in town). And then? THEN I SLEEP.
We can do this. We…can…do…this.