Guts

Well I didn’t have the nerve to write yesterday. Tom and I hadn’t finished moving (I still have to make one more trip today!) and I was in a constant state of panic. I’m feeling better this morning- I went back to the old place and met the cleaning ladies there. We all cleaned furiously for an hour, then I headed to work and left them there. I hate to admit that I still have weeks of unpacking to do, but it’ll be nice to start on a new home.

 

The move was as tough as anticipated. On Saturday, halfway through packing and crawling around the movers (yea…I didn’t do a great job preparing) I begged Tom to let us just quit. I tried to talk him into forgetting the whole thing- staying in the old place, or better yet, just throwing everything away. Except my couches. And my china cabinet. And those old English fox hunting pictures I have. Oh and my Grama’s desk. And all the gifts I got while I was pregnant. And my wedding veil. And the computer of course….

 

You see where this is going. I hate stuff, but I love my stuff. Just one of the many endearing neurosis I suffer from.

 

So here we are, August 31st. We survived the due date, Tom started law school, we moved, I learned to put dishes in the dishwasher, I decided I love beer. Not bad.

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Comments

  1. Sarah says:

    I read “endearing neurosis” as “enduring neurosis”, then reread it and smiled because it is much nicer (and I think true in a lot of cases) to think of neurosis as something which makes one more endearing!! I think I shall apply this to myself as well. :) good luck with the rest of your unpacking my dear – hope to see you soon!

  2. Suzy says:

    Ah if that’s a neurosis then I am in trouble. I have a SERIOUS love/hate/love relationship with my stuff.
    We donate a LOT of stuff to charity about 6 times a year. I mean boxes and boxes of stuff. We also have garage sales twice a year.
    Somehow we STILL have mountains and mountains of lovely, terrible stuff. I hate moving. I do it far too often.

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