We have now been in our house for one month. Everyone keeps asking us how we are adjusting and settling in. The house itself is looking pretty good. We have unpacked most of our boxes and banished the rest to the garage or our various closets. We have found the majority of our regularly used items, and we’ve made several improvements to the house, the most significant of which is probably the trimming of the trees in the front yard (thanks, Mike and Zach).
But now, I think I am suffering from something you might call “Mover’s Fatigue.” Now that we’ve unpacked enough to get along with and have made the most lived-in parts of the house livable, my motivation to carry on with other projects has decreased exponentially. Dozens of things remain to be done, some minor (lengthen Lily’s fan pull so I can actually turn off her light), some moderate (hang curtains in the bare upstairs landing window), some major (floor the attic, figure out what exactly is in the pile of boxes in the garage). But while weeks 1-2 had me eager to tackle a task list of moving items every evening, weeks 4 and 5 have me avoiding the task list the way Lily avoids nap time.
Perhaps instead of describing Mover’s Fatigue as a syndrome, one could express it as a formula in which the motivation to do a moving task (or any house project, really) is a function of: i, the inconvenience its incompletion creates in your daily life, s, the physical intrusion of its incompletion into your living space, c, the cost of completing it, and e, other events already on your calendar (both quantity and importance). It might look something like this:
Thus you’re more motivated to unpack boxes when they’re clogging your hallway than when they are stowed in closets, to replace a $4 lightbulb over a $100 closet organizer, and to do anything at all when you’re bored as opposed to when you're busy. And I suppose one last factor could be the impending arrival of any visitors. This tends to increase one's motivation (or desperation?) to make a good appearance, so maybe it should be:
Sarcastic formulas aside, I know that I need to try to keep my motivation up to avoid my to-do list becoming a “things I wish I had done” list that I laugh at five years from now when it's all still undone. So when I find myself frustrated by yet another hour-long trip to Home Depot in which I still can’t find everything on my list, or by another small item inexplicably missing and probably buried in the garage, or by another unlooked-for repair job with a big price tag, I should probably go and look at this picture:
If it were a work of art or of more skilled photography, I think I would title this “The Joy of Moving.” The past month has been a lot of work and a lot of change, and it will be many months still before we’re anywhere near as settled as we were up in Virginia. But we have a lovely home in a friendly neighborhood and a vibrant city. We have family close by, and Matt has what looks to be a steady and interesting job. We have a daughter who, on the whole, has taken all of this upheaval in stride. In short, we have a lot to be thankful for as we celebrate this first month. It’s enough to make one want to find a big box to play in.
But now, I think I am suffering from something you might call “Mover’s Fatigue.” Now that we’ve unpacked enough to get along with and have made the most lived-in parts of the house livable, my motivation to carry on with other projects has decreased exponentially. Dozens of things remain to be done, some minor (lengthen Lily’s fan pull so I can actually turn off her light), some moderate (hang curtains in the bare upstairs landing window), some major (floor the attic, figure out what exactly is in the pile of boxes in the garage). But while weeks 1-2 had me eager to tackle a task list of moving items every evening, weeks 4 and 5 have me avoiding the task list the way Lily avoids nap time.
Perhaps instead of describing Mover’s Fatigue as a syndrome, one could express it as a formula in which the motivation to do a moving task (or any house project, really) is a function of: i, the inconvenience its incompletion creates in your daily life, s, the physical intrusion of its incompletion into your living space, c, the cost of completing it, and e, other events already on your calendar (both quantity and importance). It might look something like this:
House Project Motivation (M) = (i+s)/(c+e)
Thus you’re more motivated to unpack boxes when they’re clogging your hallway than when they are stowed in closets, to replace a $4 lightbulb over a $100 closet organizer, and to do anything at all when you’re bored as opposed to when you're busy. And I suppose one last factor could be the impending arrival of any visitors. This tends to increase one's motivation (or desperation?) to make a good appearance, so maybe it should be:
M=((i+s)/(c+e))*v.
Sarcastic formulas aside, I know that I need to try to keep my motivation up to avoid my to-do list becoming a “things I wish I had done” list that I laugh at five years from now when it's all still undone. So when I find myself frustrated by yet another hour-long trip to Home Depot in which I still can’t find everything on my list, or by another small item inexplicably missing and probably buried in the garage, or by another unlooked-for repair job with a big price tag, I should probably go and look at this picture:
If it were a work of art or of more skilled photography, I think I would title this “The Joy of Moving.” The past month has been a lot of work and a lot of change, and it will be many months still before we’re anywhere near as settled as we were up in Virginia. But we have a lovely home in a friendly neighborhood and a vibrant city. We have family close by, and Matt has what looks to be a steady and interesting job. We have a daughter who, on the whole, has taken all of this upheaval in stride. In short, we have a lot to be thankful for as we celebrate this first month. It’s enough to make one want to find a big box to play in.
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