And lots of sore muscles.
And one ankle that hates me and vows to not speak to me.
If anyone is thinking of moving DON'T DO IT. Refrain. Retreat. Redecorate. Moving is an evil bitch who will gobble you up, chew you around for a few minutes then regurgitate you in the bushes.
We made three trips with the moving truck to get all of our
I may be tired, and sore and out of patience and brain power, but I'm all giddy with glee that we are FINALLY in this house.
We have boxes everywhere, which our two year old constantly reminds us by bringing things like soap and screws and even some expired St. John Wart vitamins that she tried to ingest but luckily didn't like the flavor and spit it out on the floor...then told me 'yucky medicine Mama'. How she's finding and getting into these things we don't know, other than the bottle of vitamins being on the table because I was in the process of throwing them away when the pizza man got here. I had tightened it and put it in the center of the table...in 3 minutes she climbed the chair, climbed across the table and opened the bottle.
Thankfully Poison Control was very nice and told me she can't get hurt by the vitamin if she had managed to take one.
Anywho, normally I'd be panicking, and saying OMG over and over in my head trying to figure out what to do next, but I'm not.
Somehow I'm walking in rooms and picking something to do and doing it. AWESOME. It's the weirdest thing and I HOPE TO ALL THINGS HOLY it stays with me. I'm not worried about the house being messy and boxes everywhere. I'm not worried that we can't find anything. Nope. The only thing I'm thinking about is getting the first box I see and making sure we really want what's in it.
Cause moving all this shit sucked smelly, moldy ass.