Sad Truth #1:
The amount of stuff one thinks one has is inversely proportional to the amount of stuff one actually owns.
Sad Truth #2:
The approximate value of the stuff one has valiantly moved is inversely proportional to the number of packs/unpacks one has performed on one's stuff.
Sad Truth #3:
The total weight of said stuff is inversely proportional to the total in Sad Truth #2, and will inevitably increase exponentially with each additional shift ie stuff --> moving van --> temporary situation in new house --> unpacking venue --> final disposition.
Sad Truth #4:
No one is going to want to admire one's moving bruises nearly enough, nor will they be interested in hearing more than once that you can't remember how on earth you got it, but isn't it a fantastic shade of purple? And doesn't this one on the back of my calf sort of resemble a young Fidel Castro?
Sad Truth Subsection A Which is Just a General Sad Truth and Not Moving Related:
As a history major I am probably completely misusing the term "inversely proportional" but it makes me feel pleasantly intelligent so I'm leaving it in there. Even though my pleasant feeling of intelligence is probably exposing my ignorance. Dangit. That's probably inversely proportional in some way too.
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6 comments:
confuse a kat!
Before you get everything all neatly packed up and can never find it again, there's one little thing you promised to share with us.
Darnit! You people have some seriously long memories. Okay, truth is everything is already packed up, and much of it has been packed for nearly a year (long story having to do with knowing I needed to move, also wanting to move somewhere other than where I moved, and lots of job-hunting fun and games). However, I am nothing if not easily guilted, so I shall indeed fish out the embarrassing stuff-making-stuff from whichever large blue tub it is currently interred in and somehow I will post the results. Just realize that it's All Your Fault and you can't blame me. So there.
you forgot the saddest truth!
nomatter how far away you go, how many times you move, you know that you will still find easter grass in your new home. and you have to deal with it.
Easter. Grass. We only bought it ONCE, just once in Alaska years and years ago and yet with every move it appears - green, crinkly, plastic (probably global warming causing) shreds of pure evil. I strongly believe that Lucifer himself beds down nightly on easter grass.
he can't do that, it would melt. no, he saves it for the obsessive cleaner...
IT NEVER ENDS!!!
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