moving sucks


when i lay in bed at night, this is what i see.
when i wake up in the morning, this is what i see.
when i walk into our room, this is what i see.
i will be so happy to never see this sight ever again. 

it's a pain in the ass. there's just no way around it. it's a pain in the damn arse.

we (read: i) have to be basically fully packed by tomorrow, minus our closets, because we leave for charlotte thursday morning and get back sunday evening. the movers arrive to close up shop early monday morning. we're idiots.

having a busy, curious toddler makes packing a bit more... involved.

you realize how much unnecessary shit you have when you have to put it all into boxes and then imagine unpacking it and finding it a spot in your new home. i can't begin to tell you how many times i've thrown something in the donate pile for the simple reasoning that i didn't want to deal with it later.

my husband is always conveniently out of town or in a meeting that he just "absolutely can't get out of" the day the actual physical moving occurs. coincidence? i think not. but, who am i kidding? him being out of town or in a meeting is probably better for our marriage. i swear, ikea furniture and moving are the culprit of some of our biggest fights. we haven't fought once about this move. so. so far, so good.

moving twice in eleven months and five times in the six years before that, i must admit that i'm beginning to question our sense.

after this move, i'm going to buy a big ass bottle of champagne (or three) and toast to never. moving. again. or at least until our lease is up in twenty-seven months. then again, twenty-seven months in one place will be a record for these here fadel's.




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