Pack out!

The moving cycle continues. Third pack out of our FS life (well, one could say fourth, I guess, since Greg and I had separate pack outs the first time around).  The last two pack outs were highly organized activities with color-coded post-its marking everything, a pre-test of our suitcases traveling with us, and a room completely closed to movers.  (Really, would you expect anything less?)

This time?  I went on an all-expense paid beach vacation the weekend before packers came.  And the weekend before that?  We spent four days in Baguio.  So, organizing?  Pretty slim.  In fact, practically non-existent. 

I told myself: we're going to America! Where I can buy anything I need. Where I have already scheduled my storage lot delivery. Where my family and friends live near by to loan me things until the shipments arrive.  

More to the point, I was tired of organizing. Perhaps because of those aspects, I couldn't summon up my usual organizing inner drive.  And I decided to wing it. 

We returned from Palawan three hours late and spent a frantic two hours sorting out our closets and throwing things for our air shipment onto the sofas.  The next morning we woke up and continued the frenzy for another hour until the movers came.   You know what?  It was fine!  Though, we’ll see if I say the same on the other end J  I do have to remind myself that if I’m not going to America, perhaps I do need to revert to my normal self.

Our house keys were almost packed, and a library book was actually packed (costing one mover guy an hour to search for it – he found it in the second big air freight box he checked).  Otherwise, no horror stories to my knowledge.  Again, truth comes on the other end.

I have a small jewelry pouch made by my sister in law when I was in high school containing sentimental jewelry – a necklace with three hearts from my best friend at each school I attended (elementary, middle and high) which I wore practically every day from ages 10 to 18 (adding hearts at each move), a chain with my grandpa’s baby ring, and a pair of my great grandmother’s earrings, to name a few.  Low in monetary value but high in emotional content.  The last time I saw it was just before pack out of our temporary apartment in Rosslyn.  I realized it was missing after about two months in Manila. 

For two years, I’ve been hunting around my house, hoping I’d find it.  About 18 months in, I gave up.  I harbored a hope that it had accidentally been sent to storage or might turn up as we packed out … but realistically prepped myself that a mover somewhere along the way had slipped it into his pocket and I’d never see it again.

Imagine my happy surprise when, checking in a box at the very back of my closet with Greg’s near and dear possessions (some baseball cards, his tassel from his college cap), I found the pouch at the bottom!  And quickly put it in the drawer with my (monetarily) valuable jewelry to carry on the plane.  I may have teared up a bit. Just maybe J