This weekend, we are moving everything from the townhouse to the new house. Well, everything that requires a truck. Last week, we moved a bunch of little things, stuff that didn’t need to go in moving boxes and was small enough to fit in the car. And we cleaned. Tomorrow, we pick up a truck and we’ll make a trip with all the boxes. I will do no more than supervise, I promise. Tom is coming on Sunday, so he and John will move all the furniture then. As long as the only things left by Sunday night fit in the car, we’ll be in good shape, but I have no doubt that we’ll have EVERYthing moved. Then we’ll just have to do a quick clean of the townhouse, and we’ll be done there.
DONE. Done with the ugly bathroom that never feels clean enough. Done with the super-loud creaky floors and stairs. Done with the nails popping out of the floor downstairs, hurting feet and ripping socks. Done with the windows that look directly into our neighbors’ house. Done with the stuffy, overly warm house that has forced us to flee to Starbucks to work for the last two days. (I’ve been super-productive, though, so maybe working in Starbucks isn’t a terrible thing.) We left one of the box fans at the new house, so the first level hasn’t had any way to move air for a week or so, and last night we were eating dinner and watching TV and I was SO HOT. I was dripping sweat doing absolutely nothing. John was not as uncomfortable as I was (and he’s usually more sensitive to the heat), so I can only assume baby Hugo was contributing to my issues. It was not fun. Also, my feet are swollen by the end of every day, and I HATE it. That is NOT what my feet are supposed to look like. Or feel like. It kind of gives me the creeps.
Anyway, we’re ready to move.