Sunday morning began remarkably calmly, with Peter and I being absolutely convinced of our excellent grasp on the whole packing situation and subsequent warranting of a leisurely breakfast at one of the local small town diners.
And then we packed and loaded and packed and loaded and packed and loaded for the next 12 hours.
The weather had started to turn back wintery, with a drop in temperature and continuing on and off snowing during the day on top the couple inches of wet mess that had been deposited overnight.
And this made loading a little less pleasant than it had been the day before.
So we tried the approach of packing lots of stuff and having it positioned and ready to go so the trips out to the cubes and trailer could be minimized.
Turns out we really suck at configuring the piles of stuff ready for loading in a good manner, and mostly just managed to make it more confusing and harder to get to the things we were trying to load first (namely my stuff into the cubes which were getting picked up on somebody else's time-frame).
And then, towards the end of the day, we started to encounter another problem.
The cubes were getting full.
And there was still a fair amount of miscellaneous goodies, like the never ending parade of toys, to be shoved in.
So, on top of trying to just simply load them, we were also spending a substantial amount of time playing a fairly miserable game of real life Tetris trying to get things to fit in more efficiently.
Or like, at all.
Which also led to some energy being devoted to minimizing the total accumulation of possessions that afternoon.
A lot of stuff was freed at the end of our driveway (best. road. ever), and I took all the remaining big baby items and the crib up to a pregnant women's shelter in Carthage.
So although I was totally bummed that the awesome little overpriced crib I loved so dearly was going bye-bye after a scant 9 months of service, at least I felt marginally better knowing where it went to and being able to convince myself how much it'll be needed and used and loved by someone else.
(Or so I keep telling myself at least.)
And then somehow it was getting rather late. And we were both reaching the end of our capacity to do much more besides stare blankly around the house while being completely unable to think of what should be done next.
Oh, and Peter had to go into work at 5:30 in the morning to officially sign out on relocation leave.
So bedtime was declared and eagerly embraced.
The bed we were sleeping on, as all of the normal household mattresses had been packed the first day, was an inflatable air mattress which we had (ironically) gotten when we first moved to New York and spent a couple days in the house before our furniture was delivered.
Except that it wasn't a particularly good (read: expensive) mattress in the first place, and it had spent the months since Christmas (when it was used for visiting cousins) sitting wadded up in the toyroom.
Where some little kitty had chewed a few little holes in it.
And Peter's professional duct tape patch job wasn't exactly holding as well as had been hoped.
But we are still young enough to view sleeping on the floor as an adventure and willing to embrace it enthusiastically (well, at least with a minimal amount of gripping or threatening to kill air mattress destroying kittycats) and try to make the best of it.
Which would have been much easier had 50% of the household bedding not been lost in the great basement flooding last fall and 45% of the remaining already been packed.
To be continued tomorrow....