Moreover, he and I are combining stuff entirely, so we have to find all of the redundant stuff and remove it. And worse, we're moving into a place that is about the same amount of square footage as one of our apartments was, so we have to get rid of a lot of stuff, much less find places -- and worse, space -- to put the stuff we're keeping.
So, two and a half months after our first move-in, and I've finally unearthed the dining room table from under the mound of boxes. The boxes are not done, mind you, there are still about a dozen left waiting to be gone through, their contents sifted and sorted, and either put... somewhere... in the house (for now) or sent off to Freecycle or Goodwill or that worthy charity I just read about, or perhaps just a friend. The stuff we get rid of is the easy stuff right now, really.
The problem is what we're keeping. There are now mounds and mounds of stuff on the floor all over the house. "I'm intending to put this on the desk after it moves to the room I want it in," or "I need to go through this pile of clothes one more time to get rid of more of them," or "This pile is waiting on shelves to be put in."
It frustrates me. I lust after shelving units on IKEA's site. I dig through Target's site looking for easy remedies to storage issues in the bathroom and kitchen (in fact, the only mad money I've spent this month has been on a wall-mount spice rack). My boyfriend wisely vetoed my plan to visit The Container Store while we were in Columbus, OH (I am still sad about this!) The obsession with vessels for stuff consumes me.
But worse, I cannot find anything. I don't mean the power cord for the portable speakers that's somewhere in a box, but rather: day to day mail. I used to put it on a mail table just inside the door, my boyfriend a similar deal. Well, "just inside the door" has been a mound of boxes ever since we moved in, and I only just found the mail table again last night. So, two and a half months' worth of mail is scattered around willy nilly... contributing to the mess, of course.
It all saddens me. I fell in love with the house because it is beautiful inside, but the mess has now consumed it and made it ugly. I look around and see the potential marred by the sheer amount of stuff laying about. I try to find new places for the stuff to go, but more is coming out of boxes faster than I can put it away; and, of course, there is the stuff that belongs on "that thing we have yet to buy/make." It can be totally overwhelming.
I know I will conquer it yet, I have been succeeding in little doses here and there. In fact, tonight I hope to finally have a dining room table! But in the meantime, I will continue to lust after large plastic bins with hinge lids, and wonder when it was I became my mother.