Have I ever mentioned how much I hate moving? How much I hate having boxes stacked in the garage, so many that I can’t even PARK in there? I mean, my god, how horrible is my life. We have so much crap that it fills our garage to the point that I can’t. even. park. in. it.
I know, right?
So I know I’ve made all these promises about photo tours of the house and a recap of the move and pictures of my gorgeous shoes and this and that and WELL SHIT. I’m tired. You want a recap of the move? Here’s a recap of the move. It sucked. I hate moving. On our last day of moving, I blew a tire on my car and was stranded on the side of the road while I waited for The Boy and his cousin to come rescue me (because shut the fuck up I don’t know how to change a tire SO SUE ME).
I honestly don’t know what we would have done if my mom and stepdad hadn’t come up to help. They are truly, truly amazing. My mother is a cleaning MACHINE, by the way – she scrubbed the entire bathroom floor (and that place had a pretty monster bathroom) by hand. With a spongey scrubber thingy. BY HAND. If it had been left to me I would have Swiffter Wet Jet-ed it and said fuck it. But then again, we wouldn’t be getting as much of our deposit back, either.
I gotta tell you, I’m NOT going to miss paying a deposit on places any more. Or renting. Or moving (because I hate moving). Or… any of that. It’s a nice feeling knowing (well, for the most part, we’re prettydamnsure at this point) that we’re not going anywhere for a while. Like, we can get a home phone now if we want (and we do because cell service? Not so great around these parts.) because WE’RE NOT MOVING ANY MORE.