Yet, that is.
The movers just called to tell me they're on their way. I'm sitting on the sofa, looking out over the landscape of boxes that has emerged over the last two days. I don't quite feel that sense of limbo I had the last time when D and I moved, but I know I'll feel it once all my possessions are gone. It's comforting to be surrounded by familiar things, even if they're all packed up. Then again, maybe I'm just used to seeing everything in boxes because we've moved so many times in the last decade. Many of them were "storage" moves -- boxing things up for the summer to get them out of the college dorms -- then there was the first major move to New York when I started teaching, the move to Texas after D and I got engaged, the move to a new apartment in the same city when we got married, the move to Seattle, and the move to Little U.
Yikes, that's a lot of cardboard.
This time, we're hoping there will be at least five years before we have to break out the boxes and tape again. And the super scrub-down skills (we're mostly done with that at the new house, but there are some last things to take care of). Am itching to do the last cleaning here once everything is taken out so I can be on my way.
I took this picture on the drive with Troubadour Mom to Little U. Seems a fitting way to close my last post from the Midwest for a while -- enough chasing windmills!
And there's the moving truck ...
1 day ago