Moved

I moved two weeks ago and I am just begining to get back to normal. The actual move was a tremendous disaster. My roommate and I were completely unprepared, a little delusional and apparently unpopular.
My mom drove me nuts in the weeks leading up to the move by constantly commenting on how I needed to get boxes and other moving related preparations. Instead of listening to her, I was just irritated because she was stressing me out and I was busy. Seriously, there are times when I need to listen to my mother. This was one of those times. On moving day, only about half of my stuff was actually packed. Thankfully,we bumped the moving day up to Thursday from Friday just in case we needed more time. We had to be out by noon on Saturday, and we were working right up to it. In our sugar plum filled visions of moving day, Robin and I pictured a couple of able bodied men helping with big stuff, us getting all the boxes and mom helping us clean up. We figured we could get it all done in a day.
A few months prior to the move, we had volunteers to help. They all evaporated. It ended up being me, my weak roommate and my 67-year-old mom. On Thursday we got all the big stuff moved. On Friday we were frantically packing the little stuff that we should have packed (or thrown out) weeks ago. Mom was a trooper. She stuck with us all day Thursday, stayed over night, got up before me on Friday and kept at it all day until leaving us nearly completely moved on Friday night. I have to say I've never gotten along better with my mom. Apparently gratitude trumps irritation.