Having been in my own apartment for roughly 10 days, 10 hours, 24 minutes, and 26 seconds, I am beginning to find my way past the basic necessity of “where are the towels?” or “where are the forks?” and into the “find a home” stage of unpacking. In the past, I have had the solitary goal of “empty the box and figure out the rest later.” The problem, of course, is that “later” never arrives, and three years later, I’m moving out of a house with a box labeled “papers that need to be filed” because I never got around to developing that filing system and just shoved everything in a drawer and said, “Good Enough”. I don’t want to do that this time around.
Maybe it’s because this place is half the size of our Georgia home. Or maybe it’s because right now, four years is feeling like a REALLY LONG TIME to be in seminary, so I’m wanting to be firmly settled. Or maybe it’s because this is the first move since I’ve become a home maker, and my home is finally mattering to me. It’s probably all of those things, and several others for good measure. Regardless, I’m finding that unpacking is taking longer than I thought it would, because other than simple things (plates, pants, toilet paper) I’m thinking through how I use things and where they would best be stored. I’m also trying to anticipate potential hot spots and handle them proactively.
I’m not posting a picture of the top of my dishwasher. It’s too hot to handle.
So that is all to say, my posting may be spotty for a little while longer while I try to unpack, and settle, and still keep up with the normal demands on my already limited housekeeping abilities. I’m trying to take things from “good enough” to “well done.” Good enough just isn’t good enough for me anymore.