Load 'Em Up...

So... I guess we're moving.

(Understatement. I've known we were moving since June. It's just now that it's real.)

"Why is it only real now?" you ask?

Good question. You wouldn't know if you hadn't been here. And you weren't here (because there is almost certainly not anyone loitering under my desk), so I should tell you.
My awfice has been taken over my boxes. 

And when I say my awfice, I don't mean just my little cube-shaped slice of professional world heaven... I mean the *whole damned floor.* 

And the other floor in this building that we occupy. 

And our satellite building two miles away. 

And possibly the moon.

There are boxes *everywhere*.

Which wouldn't be so bad, I suppose. Right now they're empty, and are standing around in intimidating piles lurking in corners and empty cubicles. 

It's not the lurking boxes that bothers me, though. I'm used to them. Boyfriend of Amazingness works for a company that handles big moves, so he has some castoffs that we store things in. They're really cool - they're these huge plastic bins with interlocking plastic lids that pop right in and keep all your stuff safe and cozy inside. Like my shoes.

No, the crates themselves aren't scary at all.

What intimidates me is that they are all going to be full.

Of stuff.

In a week.

Which is terrifying.

I suppose I would be able to handle it better if I knew that everything would come out okay once we unpacked. But I don't know that at all.

In fact, all I know is that I have to load up everything in the Reception area, which includes the mailing stuff and most of our deliverable packaging and even a toolbox. 

And then there are the copy rooms, with their piles of paper and their copying goodness.

And I have to package it all and get it into crates - four high per skid, please: we must be ergonomically conscious! - for the moving company to take away.

A week from tomorrow.

I guess it's the timeline that creates the greatest of my discomfort. I left the office Monday for my stint at our new location with the other employees who already live there. I left at noon on Monday with a smile on my face and an excited gleam in my eye. (Because, let's face it - any time not spent within these confines are well spent moments indeed...) 

And when I came back Tuesday, all hell had broken loose. We suddenly had confirmation that we would indeed be moving out of our current location before Christmas. 

As in, well before Christmas.

As in, less than two weeks from the official announcement.

Tuesday was a day of meetings: Meetings with movers, coordination with employees on site, coordination with superiors off site, and a flurry of phone calls to start the process.

Wednesday I was again slated to go over to the new location. I looked forward to it with even more focus, as my coworkers had become Hell Hounds bent upon one common goal: Bringing me to my inevitable stress-riddled demise before the last crate was packed. 

So, this morning, I came in to these boxes.

Everywhere.

I thought briefly about crawling into one and hiding until the whole mess is over with... But that didn't seem feasible. There are no breathing holes, and my feet might stink.

For now, I have to go coordinate the secure storage guy who just showed up to take away my last four days of work: 

I'm not sad to see them go. Those suckers are heavy.

So I'm forging onward and trying desperately not to lose my mind. Please stay tuned for more moving fun as the next week goes by.