You guys. Moving is THE WORST.
On top of that, I dare say short moves–like our 5 minutes up the road-move–may even be worse because there isn’t a hard and fast deadline. Like a bunch of hillbillies, we’ve been taking loads up and down the road in the back of Dan’s work pickup for the past several weeks.
On the very first trip up the road, my wedding train blew out of a box in the bed of the truck–floating up into the air and back down again. Right in front of the tires of another truck riding right behind us. Greasy tire treads on my wedding train. Classy.
At first, when we started moving a few things out of the house, it was blissful. I’d dance around the emptied space and declare that this THIS was the way I wanted to live from now on. I didn’t need that stuff. I loved all the room and the lack of clutter. I felt free and light.
But as more and more stuff started to go up the road and the house declined from clutter-free to torn apart hodge-podge of a home, my mental clarity and lightness went with it. The state of being half in, half out is not my strong suit.
I’ve had my low points. Like when I looked at every single person I passed on the road and thought, “At least YOU have all your things in one location!” and continued to suck down my frozen icee. I’ve sent a few desperate texts to Dan about whether or not I’m going to make it till the weekend. And chosen to nap as a defense against complete overwhelm.
We are also moving in August. And as if the heat and humidity and thickness of August in Maryland isn’t enough, we were also blessed with a record-breaking heat wave for the several days we decided to “buckle down” and get serious about getting things done.
Then, we got sick. Emma got walking pneumonia. I got something that was one doctor’s visit short of walking pneumonia. And Birdy is my feverish, hacking twin who sleeps snuggled up against me in bed each night like a tiny, sweaty radiator.
Did I mention we don’t have air conditioning? Hashtag old house love.
Last weekend, we said we’d be moved in.
But painting and projects and cleaning and ….well, it didn’t happen.
But Dan says no matter what, the beds are being moved this weekend. And our dear friend and priest is coming for a final dinner on Sunday night before he heads back to Rome. And we said “COME TO THE NEW HOUSE.” And Dan wouldn’t lie to our priest.
So this is it. The final push. The make us or break us (or both) weekend.
Send prayers. More soon. xo.