It’s amazing what you collect when you live in one place for 13 years. And folks, let me be VERY CLEAR. I. AM. NOT. A. HOARDER. In fact, during my decade + tenure in my 1-bedroom high rise apartment, I prided myself on doing several clean sweeps that resulted in getting rid of a lot of “stuff”. So when I made the executive decision to finally get out of my building and head 6 blocks to Rosslyn to a brand new, very modern, spacious residence, I thought, “This is going to be a breeze.” My new home was larger in not only square feet, but also the number of rooms. Hip hip hooray, I was adulting! I would have a den- an extra room for guests and for whatever I wanted that space to be for me.
Then, I took a survey of my apartment. And was I wrong. It was not going to be a breeze.
I have a ton- no I mean TONS books. I have TONS of breakable collectible, valuable items from traveling the world and from my 20’s and my 30’s and my now 40’s. I have a lot of art, crystal, china, wine, champagne, martini, margarita glasses, beer steins, hostessing and entertaining dishes, vases, pitchers, candle holders, tchotchkes from here and there and everywhere. And I love each of these items. I know where they came from and each has a story. Oh and I can host a dinner party for 20 a few times a week and not have to reuse the dishes.
In other words, I was going to need a hell of a lot of newspaper. I assessed my situation: I have 2 months until my move-in date. I’m working full time. I am on a few committees. I have a dog who hates the rain and it was raining a lot. And I’m single. So I didn’t have an extra brain nor a set of hands, arms or legs to assist, even if it would be to walk my dog in the rain, rub my aching feet/neck, pour me a glass of wine and say, “Honey, I’m here for you.” Because in my mind, that’s what all boyfriends do every night, right?
But I soldiered on. Each day after I arrived home from my orderly office space — which by they way, I RAN to because the energy of my home was dreadful, what with boxes and newspapers and disorderly disaster all about- I faced “IT.” IT was like the evil clown. I had a notebook to keep track of every item in every box. I even color coded with Sharpie pens. In the beginning I was fairly regimented in my attack, strategy and execution, but mid-way through, I was starting to fall apart. Boxes were climbing up the ceiling. I couldn’t get in and out of my kitchen. My dog was beside herself with panic and I couldn’t rid the scent of newspaper and cardboard out of my nose.
That’s when I went to my BFF Amazon “AP” Prime and found BUBBLE WRAP. AP sent me more moving boxes and wrapping tape (I have PTSD from that noise) and BUBBLE WRAP. Rolls and rolls of glorious bubble wrap. Pretty soon my apartment was like moving products and materials showcase. I had a bubble wrap system down for plates, for glasses, for vases, for odd trinkets. Everything I owned needed bubble wrap. I started ordering more because I was getting addicted to assurance of what bubble wrap meant. What it also meant was that I was going over the original number of boxes and Lend a Box bins by 150% for my move. Bubble wrap is not inexpensive nor is it condensed, which is why it’s good to use for breakables.
When the day came for PockitShip to move me, even the movers said, wow… you packed all of these? I proudly said “yes.” I said it took me two months. The looks on their faces was either one of “she’s crazy” or one of awe. I prefer to think it was the latter. The guys were able to swiftly and creatively transport my 90 something boxes and bins and garment bags and furniture and the huge book rolling case onto the truck and down the 6 blocks and into my larger apartment. They were in at 9am and out by 3pm.
As I sat staring at all that was transferred over in 6 hours and what took me 2 months to do, I wondered how long would it take to UN-do? I was on my 5th glass of wine by this time.
With the generous help of my sister, her husband, a dear friend and my parents within ONE week, everything- EVERYTHING- was set up, put away, new furniture assembled and my home on Sunday, a week and a day post-move day, was almost perfect. Not a scrap of newspaper, not a bin, not a box, not even a blip of the hundreds of bubble wrap sheets were to be found. It was like magic.
It’s now been a few more weeks and more things have arrived. I’m more settled. I’ve hosted friends. I’ve made a daily habit of spending my mornings in my Reading Room. I’ve found my beautiful Zen-energy in my home. It’s all good. And yes, I do have 2 extra rolls of bubble wrap stored in my front hall closet because, hey. You never know when you will need it.
-Pamela Lynne Sorensen, BetterWorld Telecom LLC Director of Business Development & Community Relations