I've been thinking about moving a bit too much. I want to get it done and I want it to go "smoothly," but I also don't want to miss the last few weeks of my life here. As Husband woke me up as he left for work yesterday morning, apparently I told him in my most dramatic and pitiful voice that I was having kitchen nightmares. Too much is too much, so no post yesterday.
To alleviate any more bad dreams, we reviewed a slide show of pictures sent by the new landlord. Where, in fact, would all of these things I was supposed to be packing go in a our new 700 square foot home, with its four kitchen cupboards and two small closets? The result: two more garbage bags to donate full of clothes, miscellaneous kitchen objects, the hat that makes Husband's head look especially melon-like, flip-flops, and the like, along with our exercise ball. I think we might just be on our way. Also, I slept well.
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