СÀ¶ÊÓƵ

            My name is Schayla Kirschman, and I’m probably officially moved in to Canora by the time you’re reading this.

            I say ‘officially’ because I technically moved into my apartment on October 1, and then proceeded to spend the rest of this month unpacking boxes and bags and every nook and cranny of my car that I bothered to stuff things in.

            Moving takes a while, honestly. People tend to make moving a tradition that only takes a day, but in my experience, it’s always far longer than that. When I was in elementary school and we moved across Yorkton due to my mother’s new job, a huge group of aunts and uncles rushed in to help us move furniture and boxes. It was a long, hard day made even harder by the fact that some of my aunts wanted to start immediately unpacking things. My mother wanted to take her time washing out cabinets before placing things, but her relatives insisted.

            The same thing sort of happened to me while I was moving in. Every time I put aside a box to unpack later, my dad would start to worry that the box was somehow never going to be unpacked. It was a ridiculous notion, to be sure. Though I guess at the same time, he had a point, seeing as how I still haven’t quite settled into my apartment despite СÀ¶ÊÓƵ here for over two weeks.

            The thing is, packing was difficult. I had to go through my bedroom and my old bedroom and my living room and storage, sorting everything out into boxes. My mother ‘helped’ with this matter, though I honestly worry that in some ways, she was a hindrance. I’m not exactly the type who enjoys useless clutter, and half the time I spent packing was spent arguing with my mother about the certain uses for things she insisted I take that I didn’t think I needed.

            Mom, I love you, but I do not and will never have a use for the time I got a silver medal with the kayak club… for placing second out of two teams.

            Despite my efforts to ensure I only brought in things I needed, I still ended up having to send some items back… because I accidentally stole a few items from my sister. The trouble with СÀ¶ÊÓƵ her roommate for several years of university is that I can no longer discern between her items and mine. I think she was understanding, though, and very politely corrected me by glaring when I was about to put her can opener in my kitchen drawer.

            After helping me move about some furniture, set up my curtains, and hang some pictures, my family left me to my own devices, and I planned to start unpacking all my various boxes. The thing is, after spending so long packing up everything I owned to move to a new town, the thought of unpacking is… less than desirable.

            So I put it off a tad. I focused on buying groceries, and then made it my goal to finish unpacking one room a day. I was actually progressing rather well before I became ill, and then had to spend several days stuck in bed and rushing to the bathroom while tripping over unpacked boxes.

            While at the time, taking my time with packing seemed like the best choice, I’m starting to have serious doubts about my decision as of late. The first few days of living in a new place involved me waking up and then digging through boxes attempting to find that one thing I was in desperate need of. It’s then that I realised that my packing skills leave something to be desired. Why in the world did I pack my favourite shirt at the bottom of my suitcase? Why did I hide my toothbrush at the very bottom of a tote? I spent most of my time berating my past self for hiding things so well from me.

            Some things were so well hidden that I still can’t find them. Apparently I packed a thermometer? Maybe it’s an invisible thermometer, because I don’t think it exists. I’d really like to know where my chapstick went, because I had one sitting on my bedside table and now it’s gone.

            I’m sure I’m going to keep remembering things I forgot to pack as well, like when I woke up in the middle of the night sweating and realized my fan was nowhere to be found.

            I have a sneaking suspicion that I won’t be completely settled here until it’s time for me to move again. Honestly, with that in mind, maybe I shouldn’t bother unpacking after all. If I leave everything in boxes, I’ll be all ready for my next move-in day!