On one hand, I'm thrilled that we've got our new place to be moving into. I think it's fantastic! At the same time, I hate packing because it depresses me. Looking around and seeing bare walls, empty shelves, and such makes me feel like my home has ceased to exist and I'm living in but a shelter.
Then, today, I feel the urge to smack myself silly because I feel this way as some friends of mine have no such things to be in boxes for them to trip over and curse when they stub their toe in the middle of the night. I'm torn between being depressed by seeing empty space where there was books, pictures, and other little things that catch the light and being angry with myself for feeling so upset.
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