There are times when I just get confused.
I'm asked (with some degree of shirtiness) to move my stuff "more efficiently", and given a deadline of a week. I shrug and start moving it immediately. "No time like the present," I say.
I start by moving things from garage to kitchen. I plan on using it as a staging area before I move stuff down the stairs. I explain this. I get yelled at for it.
So I start moving stuff down the stairs. But before I do, I get angrily queried on whether I know where I'm going to put it. No, I don't. That was kinda the reason why I was moving stuff down a bit at a time instead of all at once, but I don't bring that up. I just say no, I don't know where I'm going to put it all, I'm just going to figure that out when I start moving stuff down there. So I get yelled at again.
Don't I know that moving my stuff wasn't an order? Don't I know it doesn't make any sense to move stuff if I don't know where I'm putting it? Okay, so I'll go do that right now, then. More yelling. Don't I know I'm not doing any good moving stuff into the kitchen? Don't I know the point is to just get my shit out of his spaces? Okay, so I'll move stuff directly from garage to basement and bypass the kitchen? More yelling. Don't I know that I have until the next week and I don't have to do it now? Don't I know that? But... I -can- move it now, and why is it an issue if I do?
Maybe it's the guests' fault? I started moving my stuff, they wanted to help out. I told them not to (fully understanding the rules of the house preclude guests from being roped into house tasks), but they chose to do so anyway. Maybe I'm getting blamed for creating a situation they felt "obligated" to help with? I don't know.
Anyway. Much yelling over how I should move my stuff, but it must be all in one trip without any temporary staging areas, but not until I know exactly where everything is going, and why for gods' sake does it have to be done tonight! (I -volunteered- to move it tonight, dammit.)
I don't understand why I was yelled at. I'm not likely to ever get much of an explanation. It's very likely to wind up being all my fault, somehow--for not understanding the person who was yelling, if history is any indicator.
I don't care; it doesn't matter in the end. All my stuff is downstairs, and what I do with it now, and when, is my business. I need not provide an explanation.
It doesn't matter in the end. How can the possessions matter when the possessor does not?