My son Jesse and I had lots of those moments over the past two days because it was our stuff we were moving. Jay was most ably assisting but his stuff wasn't involved in this move.
By the time Jay and I collapsed on the couch Saturday night with glasses of dooryard cider from our friends at Poverty Lane Orchards and a mindless DVD, the three of us had moved what felt like mountains of books (Jesse and I are both book-aholics), fabric (me), clothes (Jesse), and files (both of us).
We managed to have my desk and the stuff I need to work pretty much intact by the end of Saturday and Jesse could find his bed but the rest resembled the worst jumble sale you've ever visited.
Now I can't work in chaos. Drives me nuts. I can and do make messes but beyond a certain threshold, my need to know where stuff is takes over and any creativity stops dead. So yesterday was just as long a day as I labored to restore order.
My husband laughed when I told him that I woke up in the middle of the night knowing just where my sorting adventures had to begin but when you're mad about method, you have to know where to start. I have been stashing my yarn in two totes in a downstairs closet for years but have always wanted it more accessible. So that's where I started.
Moving the yarn freed up storage space in the closet where I carefully chose, over the course of the day, to tuck away stuff I don't need very often but sure want to know where it is. And then I was off.
By the time I went to bed, I was pretty close to as done as I can get until Jay can make me some shelves in the former clothes closet where I'm going to house my fabric stash, which was quite an accomplishment.
And those flowers, those delicious dark pink asters up at the top of this post? Picked fresh this morning because I had just the spot to put them.
Now if I could only find that flash drive that I put in a safe place so I would know where it was, all would be well.
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