Quite a few weeks back, i started the long stressful process of moving. I decided to sell my house and buy a new one with a bigger land. I needed the space. I also needed the quietness. In the house i used to live in, i had houses stuck on every side, neighbors unbearably loud and a mini garden at the front where i couldnt do anything without everybody knowing. I was FAR from everything so very dependant on my car. And that bothered me. Big time. All of this did. More than anything, my neighbor's TV. And the fact that i didnt have a place to lay out in the sun without anybody watching. Ok, ok, everything ended up bothering me.
I grew up in a tiny village in France, in a house built in the middle of the woods and with no neighbors. NONE. The only noise i could hear was the birds and the wind in the branches. So having to listen to telenovelas or banda all day on my days off, there comes a moment i just couldnt take it anymore. So for my own sanity, i decided to look for something else. Some place else.
And with Tim's priceless help, i found the perfect place.
When you're moving, obviously, you have to pack. And if there is something i suck at, it's packing. It's not even that i suck at it, but i HATE it. With all my soul. So when we agreed, with the ex owner of my new place, that he would give me the keys on friday, i quickly calculated that i had 10 days left to pack my life. And in my head, 10 days = eternity.
3 days before i was going to move, i actually started. I was like, ok i really dont have much stuff, it shouldnt take me more than a few hours. 3 hours later i was like, ok i DO have shit loads of crap and i should have started packing a loooong time ago. But no, i know myself and i always leave everything till the last minutes. Especially if it's something painful like that. And let's face it, packing IS painful.
My death sentence fell on Thursday around noon. I had decided to contract a moving company in order not to depend on friends showing up or not to help me but mainly not to worry about anything ... that's their job, they have the guys to lift up my heavy stuff and the hability to stuff everything in spaces so small i couldnt even fit comfortably. And those people told me: we're coming to load the truck on Friday at 11am.
Mental arithmetic ... i have 23 hours to finish packing. And trust me, i wasnt even close at that time.
I went to bed at 3am on Thursday night, frantically packing to meet the deadline. I was thinking on not going to sleep at all but i thought ok, zero hour of sleep to move my life, even if it's just 15 kilometers further south, i am not gonna make it. No way. No freaking way.
So i went to bed. For 3.5 hours. Or so. Woke up, took my last breakfast there, didnt enjoyed it one bit and kept packing.
Moving guys arrived at 11am ON THE DOT. I already liked them. If there is something i really cant stand is people being late. So there they were, loading my shit. I asked them if i could help them with something and one of them said: no, no, just sit down and watch.
Packing for me, was quite a challenge. Not that it's tremendoulsy complicated but it brings a whole lot of various emotions: on one hand i was excited to start a new life, in a new place, a place i know has huge potential and where i'll have the space i was craving for and on the other hand, moving all my life brought back memories and some kind of nostalgia, remembering all the good things that did happen in that house i was leaving. So when ALL my stuff was IN the truck, i stared at it for a second realizing that yeah, my life, my entire life, fits in a 3.5 tons truck...
Adios Nayarit ... Piti-City HERE I COME :)
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