I love change. I embrace change. To not change is to remain stagnant. To not take risks, to avoid rash attempts, is to admit failure before you begin.
That having been said.
I HATE MOVING.
My earthly possessions are split between two locations right now (three, if you count the items my parents are so generously storing for me in their basement) and my life is constant upheaval. I feel as though I am living out of my (overly large and obnoxious, Mary-Poppins-type) handbag and my car. The cats are beside themselves. One moment is pure, unadulterated ecstasy-
-LOOK AT ALL OF THESE BOXES AND CRAP FOR US TO RUN AROUND IN AND BAT AT AND PLAY WITH AND CHEW ON!! IT'S A FREE-FOR-ALL!!-
-and the next moment is undiluted panic-
-WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE, WHY IS EVERYTHING DIFFERENT, OH MY GOD, YOU'RE NOT LEAVING US ARE YOU, DON'T LEAVE, THIS IS HORRIFYING, THE WORLD IS ENDING WE WILL NEVER BE FED AGAIN I AM GOING TO PUKE EVERYWHERE TO SHOW YOU HOW UPSET I AM.
I feel similarly.
On one hand, I can't wait to move into my new place. Bigger bedroom, my own bathroom, awesome roommates.
On the other hand, it means I actually have to move. Like...pick up boxes and whatnot.
So, I did the only thing I knew of to do- I emailed all of my friends and begged them to help me, and framed the whole thing as a party with beer and pizza. I cashed in every favor, took on every willing participant.
I did, however, actually experience chest pains when I looked at the weather forecast for Saturday and saw the potential for snow.
Dear God, do not let it snow.
I WILL LOSE IT.
AND PUKE EVERYWHERE TO SHOW HOW UPSET I AM.
Change is good.