when moving becomes mundane

If I am not forgetting anything (which is possible considering the amount of memory moves are using), this is the 17th time in the last 11 years that I have packed up my "stuff" and moved it somewhere else. And to me, the crazy part is not that I have moved that many times, but rather that it has become a normal part of my life. I can tell you the best stores to dumpster dive for boxes and which days to go. I can teach you which types of clothes to roll and which to fold. I can even price quote ups shipping rates by sight. What I can't seem to do is stop moving! It's not that I don't enjoy the places I have lived. The dorm, the fun college houses, the mountains, the big city...I loved it all. Not only have I loved the places, I have loved the people. I have lived with 28 different people (you know who you are) in the last ten years and that experience has been wonderful and is irreplaceable.
Still, this has to stop sometime, doesn't it? I don't know.
I am starting to feel the desire to ground myself a little more, but I think the problem is that my heart will always be restless. I am constantly overwhelmed by the distant voices of new adventures, new causes and of the people I know and love and those I don't yet know calling me to be a part of something. Unfortunately, I didn't read the fine print....

Side effects of a restless heart may include:

packing tape growing out of your ears, dizziness, second guessing, disappearing money, the accumulation of more pieces of luggage than needed, a broken heart over and over, a worn-down vehicle, amazing memories, ticket-stub papercuts, tears, spontaneous laughter, 37 gazillion photographs, love, a "more ideas than the mind can hold" headache and passion.

The good news is that I think I am discovering a new way to direct my heart. I can't cure the restlessness. I just have to treat it. However, as I start medicating myself, I am moving three more times in the next year. Miraculously, in a few weeks, I will have all of my belongings in one place for the first time since high school at which point I will work a drastic reorganization of my life's belongings. Then, after my third move, I will stay in one place for at least a year. Maybe I will stay there for three years. Maybe five (gulp). Maybe ten. (is that even possible?)
Regardless of the years, mundane is getting kicked out.
I am going to take my medicine and move in new ways.