Chaos is not my friend

Me and chaos have never gotten along. I have to admit, that I am my mother's daughter on this front. I am far from obsessive compulsive, but an ongoing mess feels like someone is screaming really loud in my head non stop. I am trying to ignore it. Rationally, I know that if I am packing up the apartment — and Marc is in the background trial packing all of our gear for Israel, trekking in Nepal, overlanding in India and touring in Sountheast Asia — I have to expect a bit of disarray.

But on top of the mess, there is the fact that the apartment is shrinking, or maybe disappearing is a better description. Every box I am packing now, is filled with artwork. My folk art collection, all of the artifacts from our travels, my mom's and my aunties' paintings ... As I close each box, not knowing how long it will be until I open them again, I am saying goodbye to pieces of our life — or at least "until we meet again". With each box taped shut, there is less of me, and of us in the apartment.

That's where the nutella comes in.

Embarrassingly — I will admit to you — I am eating it straight from the jar! Nothing like a spoon of nutella to smooth out all the rough edges. My arteries and the scale are glad the jar is almost empty. But hey, we can't put a jar of nutella in storage — and anything that takes my mind off this nightmare of a mess I am dealing with, long enough to tape the bottom of the next box, is a good thing.