We are moving to a new house in exactly two weeks, and I've finally accepted that I have to pack about 100 boxes in that time. (To be fair, Nick will do the majority, but I will complain the most and take the most credit.) I've been given many warnings of "Don't overdo it," "No heavy lifting," and "You have to think of the baby." No problem! I need more encouragement to actually start this task than to avoid it! I've been successfully avoiding it for weeks.
I did some research on finding motivation to pack up the house. Isn't internet research the procrastinator's best friend? My favorite bits of advice (useful enough to write down) were obvious, but they filled up a page in my notebook and helped me waste a little time. The real motivator is designating my rewards for each little bit of packing: filling one box, filling a garbage bag, filling a bag for donation, and filling a box of books to sell.
Happily, I packed one box just now, and I am now being rewarded with an episode of Game of Thrones. See -- I'm not afraid to take it slow.
My greatest hope is to purge a lot of clutter and not take anything useless to the new house. I know this will present me with many sentimental dilemmas, like the following:
I have a feeling it will end up framed in my baby's room, signaling the trouble we are all facing this coming 20 years.