I can't believe how quickly the time has gone. Only three more weeks until we leave DC (we'll be in Miami for a couple of days for consultations and then it's off to Lima). I am not ready. Not physically or mentally. There is always so much to do before a move, and it seems like it all has to happen at the last minute. I have to go through everything we own and start culling, because we are short on weight limits somehow. And even though I've gotten good at letting go of material possessions (I'm ruthless these days, because in this lifestyle you have to be), I have a particularly hard time parting with the kids' stuff. I wanted to take Will's crib and dresser with me, but it doesn't look like we'll have the weight, so I have to sell them. Jack's loft bed also has to go. I think part of it is that this house has really been perfect for us this past year, and I don't want to leave it.
On the bright side, we got our housing assignment and it looks great. A big, modern house with a lot of space (and four bedrooms, so I will be expecting lots of visitors!). It also looks like a death-trap for small children, so I'm interested to see how GSO is going to "baby proof" it. We're talking a fountain out front, an outdoor staircase in the back, a deck with open rails on the second floor, all hardwood or tile floors, etc. But I will say that it looks modern and spacious, and I feel very fortunate to have gotten it.
Moving is probably my least favorite thing in the world, so it's fabulous that I married a man who drags me all around it. It's actually the logistics of moving that bother me - I enjoy the change (although maybe "enjoy" isn't the right word; it's more that I like what happens to me when I'm forced to change). Anyone who has done a military or government move knows that just because someone else is doing the packing and moving for you, there's nothing easy about it. This isn't some across-town move where all your possessions get packed up and relocated. First there's the aforementioned culling due to weight limits. Then there's the separating of household effects (HHE), unaccompanied air baggage (UAB), and items for storage. On moving day (or days) you've got to watch the movers like a hawk to make sure everything goes to the right place. And I have heard some horror stories about moving: trash being wrapped up and sent halfway around the world; teeny tiny items being wrapped in ridiculous amounts of paper to drive the weight up; the usual broken items and things being shipped to the wrong place, etc.
But fortunately, John and I already had what I'm pretty sure will be the worst move of our lives (unless of course the ship with our crap on it sinks, which also happens). You see, way back when, a month before our wedding, the Marine Corps moved us from Texas to San Diego. And somewhere on the way, the truck was caught in high winds and jackknifed, spreading all of our belongings across the desert. When what was salvaged from the accident arrived at our house, we were horrified. Our brand new washer and dryer, John's road bike, a television, a computer, and a bunch of other expensive stuff was destroyed. Other things, like a headboard, a desk, and a box spring, were never found. And then there was my plastic bin full of bras and underwear. When I opened up the drawers I was met not with silk and lace but dirt and rocks. To this day I wonder what became of my underthings; I have a vision of a Texas longhorn with a bra dangling from its horns. When all was said and done, we got $7,000 dollars of the $20,000 or so in damages and loss. I'm not sure that we learned anything from it, but it sure makes all our other moves look pretty darn tolerable.
Over the next three weeks, I hope I can stay somewhat organized and sane. But one way or another, we'll be on our way to Lima very, very soon!