Leaving the nest has me thinking of flying these days...soaring out in complete freedom, the wind under my wings, nothing but open sky...and three checked bags, two marked with the glaring red OVERWEIGHT sticker (I'm still hoping the gate attendant meant the bags and not me). And a book that I am trying to cram into my purse so it does not count as an unpardonable third carry-on item. And my passport and boarding pass tumbling out of my pocket to a neat sheaf on the floor. Let's just say that traveling light has never been my strong suit.
As moving day ticks slowly closer, I begin to think that might be an area for improvement. My future nest is a nice little eight hour drive away, not allowing for many re-loads of my compact SUV. Try one load.
Maybe if I strap the mattress to the roof and the boxes to the mattress and the couch on top of that...
You get the idea. So far I have a boxed dining table set, one plastic tub, three boxes, a shelf in Mom's linen closet, and a notebook packed with design layouts (the notebook can go in my carry-on). Oh, and one of my friends just offered me a queen bed! It is going to be a challenge and a half fitting a queen into a trunk 4' wide. Maybe if I strap the bed frame under the mattress under the boxes under the couch under the mewling cat...
So far no success in traveling light. I laugh and count the boxes among my blessings. After all, someone has to keep the U-Haul in business.
Number one overlooked fact of moving out of the nest: momma eagle does not move with you. Before you start cheering chants of "sweet freedom" and "alone at last," let it sink in for a moment that you are on your own.
For the last twenty (or thirty) years, mom has been bringing home worms, tidying the nest, and paying rent on the treehouse. Now, those responsibilities are yours. Me personally, I like to play house. Even cleaning can be fun with the right playlist. But the difference is that when I play house, all the nice pretend store people give me everything for free. Now, instead of mom paying me extra allowance to clean the house, I have to pay to get the supplies to clean the house myself (Life lesson #73 of growing up: being alive costs you money, and the price goes up as you get older. Deal with it). Then my adult brother, who has already passed his wing test and lives in Atlanta, introduced me to CouponMom.
CouponMom is like the tooth fairy for grown-ups.
http://www.couponmom.com/
She tells you when to take your coupon clipping confetti to the store and get such a good deal that the cashier ends by shaking his head and giving you money. I am not a coupon master yet (my brother promised to tutor me on advanced coupon tactics like doubling and matching), but today I got a dollar off my Swiffer starter kit and seventy-five cents off an eighty-four cent scrubby pad. I still had to pay to do my own cleaning...but paying less made me feel better about it. :)
Moving out on a limb is exciting. A little risky (especially if you weigh too much for the branch and it starts swaying back and forth in the suddenly not-so-gentle breeze...sorry, back to topic). Okay, it can be a straight up freaking-out, nerve-shattering experience!
But I have discovered The Upside.
You get to go shopping. No really, shopping! You go to the store, and you find things you like, and then you take them home. This is actually a legitimate part of the moving out process and is called "feathering the nest." My feathering wil be limited to a couple of poofy down pillows, but the concept is one I can appreciate most thoroughly.
So far I have made two feathering excursions, both to Atlanta's design mecca IKEA. IKEA is a wonderful place designed for people who have developed their design pickiness by watching too much HGTV, but have limited fundage to back their taste.On trip one, the kitchen was my nest-compartment of focus. I spent about forty-five minutes agonizing over which set of white plates to buy. By the silverware section, I kept the box that felt heavier. By the time I got to gadgets, I put it in the cart if it looked useful and ignored what I couldn't identify (except for that curious object I still can't figure out...it looked like an oversized thimble but the tip was rough like a cheese grater. Still have no idea). On trip two I stocked the bathroom; much easier. Towels in one pile, soap dispenser in another.
Somehow, even the purchase of a dustpan delighted my soul as I looked at it and envisioned it in my first place. :)
