I don't have any kind of normal-person special skills. I can't run a mile in 5 minutes or paint a picture of a mountain that actually looks like a mountain. I've tried to learn to knit, twice. And failed, twice. I try to keep things scheduled on my calendar so I can stay all organized and on top of things, but I keep losing my calendar. I don't have meal plans. I don't clean my children's rooms or even my house with any kind of regularity. I get someone else to do my taxes and honestly, I don't even know HOW to change the oil in my car.
But you know what I'm really good at? Moving. I've had all sorts of practice in my life and I've got it down to an art. I don't even start getting ready until 48 hours before the big event. And I usually have everything unpacked and in place 48 hours after. USUALLY. I was so ready for this move. I posted right before the move, and had a post waiting for the week after. It was going to be seamless. No one was going to know I was gone. Except that you did. Because, as it turns out, I'm only good at moving in America. Who knew that this one special talent of mine was geographically limited?
The moving system here is slightly different. The company brings in giant plastic bins and throws (gently places) all your highly valued materialistic goods inside of them, transports them to your new place of dwelling, and then unpacks them for you. The unpacking was my downfall. Every flat surface area in my house was covered with items. Even the floors. There was no organization to it. There were kitchen items in at least 3 different places. Bathroom items were located in every single room of my house. (House. I live in a house. It's so exciting I can hardly stand it.) I found my watch in a pile with party balloons and laundry spray, next to the toothpaste and candles.