My absence can be explained by this, my ass is stuck in a bucket. I'm walking around boxes to get to more boxes to pack new boxes only to forget what's in said boxes. You see, we've moved so many times this year that I thought it would be okay to save our old boxes. Cool. Until the husband throws the VERY MOST FRAGILE-EST of things on the floor because the box read "Laundry Supplies" (awfully light for laundry supplies, ya think?) My bad. But I'm just sick of moving, so I'm doing a crap-ass job.
We've closed escrow on our new home. The moving journey will soon be over. The marital stress of putting the brakes on our almost new life in Colorado was huge. But now, the peace my husband and I have found in this decision is better than marriage counseling. Getting through our recent stress is like yoga, a massage, zen, and a glass of wine all rolled up, yo-ma-zen-wine. And quite frankly, who doesn't need more yomazenwine in their life? It's not about the house, but more about what it means for our family.
But before we clang glasses in final celebration, we have packing and tripping over boxes for 9 more days. You know when you know that you're going on a vacation, so you start saving up all of your cute clothes, because you want them to be clean for the trip? So you wear all of your dorky clothes that you just know won't be coming along on vacation. That's where we are, but instead of clothes, it's random food in the pantry/freezer, toys for the kids, toiletries, etc.. I need to pack everything, but in phases. So the in between phase feels sort of like walking around with a bucket on my ass. You know the feeling, right?