We moved this week.
Not far - just from the right side of the house to the left. And not much - our bedrooms were already on this side. But the living room, kitchen and dining room all moved right-to-left. Distance isn't much of a problem obviously, but space is. The right-side kitchen is two rooms combined with about a half-acre of counter space and 18 cupboards. The left side is half that size with 8 cupboards and about a yard of counter. There are two lovely built-in corner cabinets in the dining room, and the dining room itself is larger - so much so that we've designated half of it as TV area, and half as dining.
The right side painting is moving right along, and I've begun transporting Mom's things here. She has a wonderful friend who is helping her pack. I'm running everything I UNpack through the dishwasher since there is some mousie doo-doo in a couple of her drawers (oh, I SO don't need mouse crap germs around Babygirl!). We sorted through her clothes. She seems to think that she still needs her work wardrobe and that she needs to save all three of the sizes she's been in in the past 15 years. Sigh. And as she pointed out in the middle of all this, "I am not as bad as Aunt Mary."
True that. Aunt Mary was a pack rat.
But she pack ratted in a different way. She had tons and tons (and tons and TONS) of clothes. Mom has roughly 50 coffee mugs. When I suggested she 'thin the herd' she remarked that she might need them. Honestly, I'm pretty sure that there is no way she'll fit 50 people into our old apartment. I'm not sure she knows 50 people who'd all want to show up to a coffee hour at her place, but, hey, I've been wrong before. And really, aside from the mugs, she hasn't got excessive possessions. But moving is still work no matter what. And moving someone with dementia is even harder. She forgets what we've packed, what we've decided to hold off on and why, when the move is happening and why we decided it needed to be done in the first place.
Sigh. It's going to be a long two weeks.