Since I haven’t moved in six years, I had forgotten how physically exhausting moving can be. In previous moves, I had pretty much been moving just myself and all my accumulated crap. This time, I was involved in moving myself, Sweet Dub, and a 3-and-a-half-year-old, and it was about 300 kajillion times more exhausting. I woke up this morning and swung my legs out of bed and every muscle in my legs hurt. My back hurts. My neck hurts. My eyes hurt.
But I shuffled geriatrically out into the kitchen to put the kettle on at my 1940s fully restored cool-ass stove, as the sun was coming up, and the mist was rising over my back yard, and the (koi-less) koi pond was burbling gently away, and I felt an enormous sense of peace and gratitude. And despite having to leave the house 15 minutes earlier than usual to get to school and work on time, I think it’s all going to be worth it.
Having said that…
We pretty much made this move for two reasons:
(1) To live someplace quieter. Throughout the weekend, Sweet Dub and Viva would periodically break into a stomping dance jam on the hardwood floors, screaming at the top of their lungs, “No more neighbors! No more neighbors!” Which isn’t completely accurate, but it was delightful to witness their glee.
(2) To have a yard. Of course, what we didn’t realize is that Viva is such a city kid that she won’t spend more than two minutes in the yard. “Too many bugs!” she shrieks, making a beeline for the back door. “I’m paying [undisclosed] bucks a month for this place, you better get used to some bugs,” Sweet Dub says. Sigh. I’m sure she’ll adjust.
Oh, and Sweet Dub twisted and rolled onto his ankle on Saturday while moving the heavy stuff. It’s all swollen and purple, and yet he continues to walk on it, because, well, he has to. There’s simply too much to do.
No phone service or DSL until at least Thursday of this week, so I’m posting from work for now. More soon.
Love & kisses,
Mama Blah Blah