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I want my weekends back

I want my weekends back.
I want to be able to spend Saturday morning watching my kids play soccer and
chatting with my friends; or shopping; or getting my hair done. Not cleaning up
closets. I want to be able to lounge around in the evening and read a book
without falling unconscious after the third page – if I get to the book at all. I want to take it easy on Sunday morning
and sit down with a cup of coffee to read the Sunday papers; or spend the day
outdoors with my kids, without thinking about the chores awaiting me at home.
When did this happen? After another one of “those”
weekends I realise how much this impending move has taken over more than just
my weekends. It’s not that our weekends were ever a relaxed affair – by far not.
But never that bad. I want my life back.
When I talk (read:
complain) about it to my husband, he seems puzzled: why is there so much that I
have to do to prepare for the move? The movers will just “come, pack things up,
load them onto their truck, and unpack them when they get to Zurich. Simple,
really.” Really? Do I really want
the movers to pack up the broken china that we never could get ourselves to throw and is sitting in the back corner of our top kitchen cabinet? What about the
baby clothes that have outgrown even our youngest, but I have not yet gotten
around to give away? When I am in Zurich, am I going to be reading the “Economist”
magazines from three years ago that are gathering dust in the corner of my
study? Or are we going to be using the old photo printer that we bought together
with a camera that has long been replaced by a new one? You get the
picture.
Someone needs to do the
weeding out. I am that someone. I go room by room and discard. When I started
on the kids’ room, it took me almost three days to get out, after being buried
in boxes of Star Wars Legos; piles of papers, notes, magazines; random pieces
of puzzles whose origin nobody will ever know; and dozens of stuffed animals of
different sizes and species.
If it weren’t so
time-consuming and exhausting, I would say I actually enjoy the process. Simplifying
one’s life is a great feeling. But it’s brain-less work. Effectively doing
nothing but for weeks on end, I miss all
the other stuff. I miss the intellectual stimulation. I miss my real life. I
tell myself that it is only a couple more weeks until the actual move – but
then, of course, there’s the unpacking, which is a whole
different story…
It’s probably too late
by now, but I wonder if there is a better way to do this. Does moving take over
your life as well?

4 Comments

  1. Funny, I just moved from Zurich to Vienna. I can say that both are great cities and both are very unique. Good luck with everything! 🙂

    Mary

    1. Thank you, Mary. And welcome (back) to Vienna!

  2. Anonymous

    Sorting out stuff may not be a very intellectual job but it surely is a psychological game: what do you keep from your past, what do you throw away? Are all those shreds of paper, kids'drawings and sketches that important for our lives? Are they essential?
    …I could be posing the question to myself, actually…but carry on, Katia, it surely is a great existential exercise.
    Aglaia

  3. Good point – it's not all mindless work (though a lot of it is), some of it is also an emotional process. Though sometimes I feel bad that I am the one who gets to decide what is "worth" staying and what not. Particularly when it comes to kids' artwork, that sounds a bit brutal, doesn't it 🙂

    Are there things you would never ever throw? For example, for me one of those things are photos.

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