Aw, finally it’s time to sit back and take a deep breath and
relax. For the past month or so, we have
had a crazy, non-stop schedule that had us on the go the majority of the time
we weren’t at work or school. Every
weekend has been packed full of holiday festivities, from Thanksgiving up till
now. And though I enjoy seeing people
and celebrating the season, every year I start burning out around December 20th,
and find myself longing for Christmas Day, when I know we WON’T have plans.
The weather over the past week really has been quite wintery—we
had a winter storm last Tuesday that left the roads an icy mess. It took me 2 hours to get home from
work. This past Tuesday, we had yet
another storm that left the roads resembling a skating rink (WHERE are all the
snow trucks our tax money goes towards?!).
And this time it took me 2 ½ hours to get home. I almost didn’t go back in yesterday, and
even went as far as calling and rescheduling my 8:30 patient from home (which I’d
never usually do), in fear that I wouldn’t get to work in time. I was supposed to have two other patients
come in, before the office closed at noon, but ended up seeing only one of them…
After getting home yesterday, I vowed to myself that I wasn’t
going to think about work AT ALL over the next ten days that I’m off. No, I’m going back into my comfort zone,
which is being Mom, and am going to enjoy hanging with the boys for the
remainder of their Christmas break.
For the past few years, it’s been our tradition to spend Christmas Eve with our friend, Conni. This year, she cooked an incredible dinner of prime rib with blue cheese sauce, asparagus with hollandaise, seasoned potatoes, salad, and homemade bread. She also had a peach pie for dessert (which turned out great—she said that it was her first pie she’d ever baked from scratch). The most impressive part of the night, though, was the wine that we cracked open with dinner. Her aunt had sent her two bottles of wine for Christmas, and upon researching the brand on the internet, Conni found that they cost $200 a bottle. Honestly, it was the best wine I’ve ever had. But, even with that said, I can’t imagine EVER spending that much on a bottle of wine—you’re talking about someone who “cut her crops” on cheap beer and Boone’s Farm in college and hasn’t moved up much from that!
We played charades and the boys played on the Wii and then we went home around 10. The boys had us up today around 6:30. Aidan woke me up, pleading to open his gifts finally (how long he’d been awake, who knows). When we went downstairs, I noticed that he’d already been down there, separating out the presents into piles.
While opening the big gift for this year- a Wii, both boys started whooping and yelling, saying that they couldn’t believe that we’d actually bought them something so cool (I wanted to tell them we aren’t that uncool… yet) . You would’ve thought they’d won the lottery or something! Alex thanked me for the gift, saying how much they’d really needed it. I corrected him by saying that no, they didn’t “need” anything, but I’m glad they really appreciated it.
We’ve spent most the day dressed in our PJ's, either lying in bed or playing Wii. The boys received 4 games for it and Conni
leant us a couple more, so there hasn’t been any monopolizing of one particular
game yet (though if Aidan had it his way, he would’ve played Lego Batman all
day).
Tonight was our annual “you-call-it” supper. This has been our tradition for the past four years. Everyone gets to pick what they want and then I cook it, no matter if everyone eats the same thing, or if everyone wants something different. This year, just like last year, they all wanted homemade pizzas. And for the first time, I let everyone chip in and help. It was sooo much easier than in the past (have I said how much I love my boys being old enough to help?).
Now, Jyl’s kids are here, spending the night. We offered to take them so that Jyl and I could go shopping tomorrow morning, while Steve watches them. And, as it’s been all day, the kids are glued to the Wii.
It’s truly been a lovely, stress-free Christmas. I hope each and every one of you can say the same. Oh, and I just wanted to mention to Suzy: Congrats on your new arrivals (all four of them!)! I’m so happy that you are all healthy and I hope that you can get home as soon as possible—our prayers are with you and your family! Can’t wait to see pictures of the “fab four”!
This past week marked the beginning of our whirlwind Holiday festivities. The boys had their Christmas program at school and turned in stellar performances (as always). Alex had a speaking role and has spent many days after school, practicing his three or so lines. Aidan's performance cranked up the cuteness factor by about a thousand. He knew all the words to the songs and all the gestures and the urge to run up and kiss him was almost too much for me to bear.
I was going to sew Alex's costume and let Aidan wear the costume I'd made Alex when he was a first grader. But my sewing machine is on the fritz and Alex's costume is about five times too big for Aidan, so instead I opted for the felt and puffy paint route. I think the costumes are cute, though...
I think the humongo boxer shorts really make the outfit...
Last night was the first of a couple Christmas parties that we're attending this year. Our friends, Jay and Krystal, hosted their 4th annual Christmas party and it was great. They had tons of food (always an essential part of a successful party) and lots to drink. Krystal's mom made a cranberry-vodka drink that was especially tasty and I had a few (6 or 7) glasses of it. We stayed till around midnight (because for once we didn't have to rush home, thanks to the kids staying overnight at Jyl's) and I finally got to bed around 1:30... then was up at 7:45 to pick up boys and get to church at 9. Needless to say, today I've been exhausted from staying up waaaay too late (and probably the cranberry-vodkas have a small part in this, as well).
On an unrelated, but more exciting note (to me anyway), the house is coming along. I've been by there a couple times this week and it's changed quite a bit in a week's time. I took this picture about a week and a half ago, when there were just the footers and cement casings (I guess that's what I'd call them), where the basement walls would be poured:
Since moving into our rental home about a month ago, we've been parking outside-- mainly because the garage has become our storage unit. I knew that this would mean having to remember to start the car at least 10 minutes before leaving every morning (and since I have an older car, this is not optional, in my book), but I forgot how Mother Nature likes to play jokes on people; like for example how she loooves to ice people's doors and locks shut. Thursday morning, I was running a bit late, but still managed to make it outside to start up "Ole Bessie" around 6:50, when I noticed that yet AGAIN this week my lock on my driver's side door was frozen. So, I went around to the passenger side and tried that door and found that it, too, was frozen. At this point I was starting to feel a bit desperate. I didn't want to drag Hubby out of bed and outside. No, being the independent woman I am, I thought I'd try the back hatch. And lo and behold, I could open it. Score! Now I'd just climb in through that way (and over mounds of crap stored in my trunk) into the car (I have a CRV, so the trunk area's open to the rest of the car).
Except that since the bottom part of the hatch-door doesn't open anymore, I'd have to climb up and over it, and through the window part. And since it was icy, I fell twice while trying to get in. And naturally, there were four of my neighbors outside, warming up their cars as well. So, I'm sure they got quite the show as they watched their crazy, blond neighbor trying (rather unsuccessfully) to break into her own car.
I didn't think much about it really while at work. I was a bit sore, but that wasn't really something you fixate on (unless you're my son, who fixates on everything). I didn't think much about it until I was using the restroom at work later in the afternoon and decided to survey the damage finally. There was a massive blackish-blue bruise forming on my inner right thigh. And there was a huge, swollen bruise on my left inner calf and a scrape on my left knee that was pretty nasty. And since I had worn knee-highs, the damage wasn't as severe as it was going to be, once I took them off and let my legs "breathe".
Naturally, the first thing I thought about when seeing it was, "Oh my God! I have a massive hematoma and I'm going to have a clot break away and lodge in my heart or lungs or brain and I'm going to die!". Because that's how I operate: always the eternal ray of sunshine...
As of today, the bruise on my left calf is still swollen pretty bad; if it's not better by Monday, I'm probably going to let one of the docs take a look at it (hairy leg and all). I finally am smart and elevating and icing it today, so hopefully that will help with the swelling.
Gosh, it's amazing how you take for granted those simple luxuries in life, like parking in a garage. Makes me want the new house even moreso than already.
Anyone who knows us knows just how picky our younger son really can be, especially when it comes to food. While the rest of us love anything that's spicy and the spicier the better, Aidan has been known to say that ketchup's too spicy. Ketchup? Spicy? Where did this kid get his DNA from?!
I always have a constant supply of desserty foods in the house, to entice the boy to finish his minuscule amount of food I make him eat at any meal. I bribe him (and no, I'm not too proud to admit that) into cleaning his plate, so that he can receive whatever dessert we have on hand for that day.
Thanksgiving was like heaven for both the boys. Alex could eat constantly, without reprimand from either his father or me. And he did. All day. Aidan could eat dessert. And more than one helping. Because the grandparents thought it fitting to not only bake pumpkin pie, but also cupcakes (because they just knew that their grandsons also would like cupcakes, along with the mountains of other crap being served that day) and cookies... and then sent us home with most of it because they felt that the boys "needed the calories more than they did" (whatever-- they knew I'd be eating the stuff more than the kids would. Evil, evil parents... ).
Aidan is definitely his mother's son. The boy may despise any other sort of food, but you give him anything sweet and he's all over it. He may (and has) take up to two hours to eat his supper, but you give him a bowl of ice cream and it's gone with lightning speed.
On Thanksgiving, I made Aidan eat the following things before he could have his beloved pumpkin pie (the pie he praised in his essay of what he's thankful for: Mom and Dad; his country; his state; his brother; but most importantly, he's thankful for pumpkin pie): two slivers of turkey, a tablespoon-sized portion of sweet potato souffle (which he announced very loudly that he hated), about the same amount of green bean casserole, and a crescent roll. Then he proceeded to eat three pieces of pumpkin pie, without dropping a single crumb anywhere (which is a feat in itself). Then asked if he could have more, about an hour later. And since I wasn't paying attention, I didn't catch his begging my sister, or I would've put the smack-down on it. I looked over and he was having that forth piece and that's when I announced to everyone that they needed to stop enabling his addiction. Later that night, Aidan informed me that his "bewwy hurt"... gee, why are you surprised, Aidan? He weighed himself on our scale when we got home that night (because he's fixated on gaining weight; which is something he hasn't done in two and a half years now) and was happy to see that he weighed 42 pounds. I told him that at least 30 of that was pie and that by the next night, he'd be back down to 40. I don't think he believed me at first, but my theory was proven correct the next evening, when he weighed himself and was back down to his "normal" (if you call an almost-seven year-old who weighs 40 pounds normal) weight...
On Friday, we went to a friend's house for Thanksgiving feast number two. Again, more pie. This time, the pie came home with us. I've been rationing the pie to Aidan, so to avoid the Great Thanksgiving Pie Pig-Out (and Thanksgiving Blow-Out, witnessed the following night) all over again. He savors each morsel as if it's gold baked in a pie crust. Tonight he said to me, "Momma, you know what the secret ingredient is?". I asked if it was love. "No," he said, "it's allspice".
So, today really has been one of those days when I have to ask myself if it really was worth going back to work after all. Sure, it's nice to be able to afford more than $25- worth of groceries... that is supposed to last for two weeks. Or be able to afford to eat out (meaning not having to default to the dollar menu at Wendy's, because all you had to spend was about $7 in change you managed to scrape together from your husband's pants pockets or from your coin jar stash, hidden in the sock drawer). Or, gee I don't know, buy a new house finally so you and your family isn't falling all over each other...
*Sigh* But, there is that phrase that it's not all about the money that reverberates through my brain on days like today. It started when I had to be at a clinic site at 7:30 this morning. This wouldn't have been so bad, except that it's about 50 minutes from my house (which I should be used to by now, since all my sites are about that far from my house). I was there for about 1 1/2 hours, before I had to go to my usual Monday clinic site and work from 10-6, seeing patients who averaged about 15 minutes late, due to the trace of snow we received today. C'mon, people. We live in the Midwest. There is SNOW starting in Decemeber. It is NOT a new phenominon-- leave 15-20 minutes early so you can show up to your appointment on time, for crying out loud! Yes, I could have been mean and told them too bad; they're late so they need to reschedule. But, that's not how I roll-- I try to be nice to everyone (even those who don't deserve it) in hopes that it will rub off on others (and myself) and the world will be a bit brighter because of my generousity. (whatever)
I was packing up finally around 5:15, thinking that my 5:00 appointment was just going to not show up, when they came in. And of course the teenage boy had not taken his asthma medicines for the past two weeks. And was now pretty sick. And had horrible pulmonary function tests. And needed to be seen by his physician, like, two days ago... You see my point here? NOT a good way to end a very long day... I managed to get him an appointment immediately after we were done. I directed him and his father to the elevator, with test results in hand, and promptly clocked out at 5:50 (which wasn't really "late", considering that's when I have to leave anyway).
My other point of mumbling and grumbling comes from that the boys were going to have to go to a different location after school than they usually go. Jyl's oldest was sick today- a point I knew about around noon, when Hubby emailed me, letting me know that he'd arranged for the boys to go home with a different friend's kids after school. I'd called that friend after reading the email and made sure I knew her plans- she needed to be at church around 6:30, so I needed to meet her there, since I was sure I couldn't get back home by the time she needed to leave. I arrived at church shortly before 6:30 and waited. And waited. And finally after about ten minutes of waiting decided I should give her a call. Naturally, my phone had died (and I didn't know that till trying to use it). So, I borrowed the teenager's, who was in the childwatch room. And since I don't know that particular friend's phone number by heart, I had to call Jyl and get it from her. Upon calling my friend, who was watching the boys, she said that she'd left me a message on my (dead) cell, letting me know that she wasn't going to make it to church.
After picking up the boys (and learning that they hadn't been fed dinner), I had to try to figure out dinner. So, I made breakfast dinner of scrambled eggs, pancakes, bacon, and yogurt with fruit and we were eating a half-hour later (at 7:30)... The boys played for another hour, before I finally forced them to bathe and get to bed. SOMEHOW I managed to get them to bed on time- 9:00.
And this is how every Monday goes. I HATE Mondays. I DISPISE them because I know that from the minute I hit the ground running at 6:00am, till I can finally collapse into bed at 11:30, it's going to be a rat race. Hubby teaches every Monday and doesn't get home till around 10, so everything's left to me, after picking up the boys. And since I have to work later on Mondays, it's usually not till 7 or so that we eat. I know that I need to get smarter about dinner; maybe throw something in the beloved crock pot in the morning before I leave for work. I just never think about it until I'm driving home with the boys at 6:45.
There are days like today that I look fondly back at a simpler time. But then I allow my thoughts to also drift to the not-so-great parts of those days. Like not knowing how/ when the bills are going to get paid. And the panic that I constantly felt in the pit of my stomach about the (lack of) finances. And I try REALLY hard to hold onto those when weighing the pros and cons of working full-time and realize that yes, I AM exhausted 98% of the time. But I am at least reassured now that bills will be paid (on time, even) and that I can take pride in the thought that I'm contributing to the family AND the world, by helping others out there who need my instructions (even if they don't always listen)...
Happy Thanksgiving, All! We celebrated with my side and it was surprisingly enjoyable! I don't mean that quite as mean as it came out; it's just that usually someone gets mad and there usually is a considerable amount of swearing and "red-neckisms" that are thrown around (which, when the boys were younger used to drive me crazy, but now that Alex has became the the moral compass and Aidan could probably teach them all a few swear words of his own, it doesn't bother me as badly). My sister, Janet, put together quite a spread of food (lots of yummy carbs and sweets!). Steve and I then trounced them all in a not-so-exciting game of Scene It (which is funny, since we haven't been to a "real" movie- meaning one not involving cutesy animated animals- in about ten years now). We stayed until around 7 and then headed home.
The next morning, I headed out with my friend, Jyl, for our tradition of running with the idiots (sort of like the running of the bulls, except ours involves large masses of irritable, sleep-deprived people). Our original plan was to head out at 6, but after talking with her Thanksgiving night, she thought we should head out at 5 (I know *ugh*) instead because Walmart had DS's as one of the sales items.
So, there we were, at 4:45, waiting for Walmart to unlock their doors (because we decided to go to the one in the neighboring town that isn't open 24 hours). There was a long line formed outside the "in" doors, so we decided to join the 20 or so that were forming a line outside of the "out" doors. You would not think this would spawn an almost-riot, but did I mention that I call this event the Running of the Idiots? Finally at 5:05, they unlocked the "in" doors, and the Running commensed. I actually saw the first of the riot, I mean crowd, running through the store; making a beeline for the electronics department. It was absolute INSANITY. We hung back a bit and let ourselves be pushed through by the mob in back of us; I'm not usually one to get claustiphobic, but that did bother me. I actually had to push the thought of me falling and being trampled out of my head.
Since nothing I wanted happened to be "hot ticket items", I hung back (outside of the electronics department) and let Jyl fight her way through the mob. After that, we headed to Menards where, while standing in line for the doors to open, we heard someone in front of us yelling at the crowd in front of the "out" door, "Hey, get in line, f***ers!). Oh yeah, like that's going to make them hop right in line, Billy Bob...
While waiting in the line at Menards, another friend of mine, Conni, called to say that she'd purchased the last 50 inch plasma at a different Walmart down by her boyfriend's house. She said that while the cashier was ringing up her purchases, she first told Conni that the total was $180. After Conni corrected her, saying that no, she didn't think that was the correct total, the cashier actually said, "Oh shit, I don't know how to say that number then!". Nice example of how wonderful it is that Walmart hires people with special needs...
And on and on it went for the next five hours... We got home around 10:30-- almost a record for us. We would've been home earlier, except we needed to stop by the grocery store on the way home. Needless to say, I was completely exhausted and once I got everything inside, I crashed for about 2 hours.
I don't know why I subject myself to that mess. The sales are good, but not that good.
These past two days, I've enjoyed being a slug as much as possible. My goal was to lay on the couch for as long as I could stand it. Then only get up long enough to eat something and then sit some more... We were ambitious last weekend and put the tree up, so I couldn't even use that as an excuse to be motivated to do something other than be slug-like.
And as if Mother Nature is officially ending the Fall season and rolling in the Wintertime, we woke today to a 3" blanket of snow. It's almost like she also decided to put out her Christmas decorations this weekend...
So, tonight around 8 the phone rang. I didn’t recognize the name on caller ID, but answered it anyway. And on the other end was a child’s voice, asking for Alex. I said sure, could I ask who’s calling please? And the little voice said her name was Sarah. Oh? Okay, play it cool, play it cool. Be a cool mom, I kept saying in my head, as visions of my own very-not cool mother, who embarrassed me countless time raced through my head. Sarah went on to say that she had called to get the vocabulary list from Alex.
Oh, *phew* Okay, that’s fine… So, I handed the phone over to Alex, telling him it was Sarah and she was calling for the vocab list. He had this deer-in-headlights, WTF-is-a-girl-doing-calling-me, slightly oblivious look on his face as he took the phone (reminiscent of the one his father gave me about 18 years ago, when I finally caved in and said that yes, I would go out on a date with him, as long as he PROMISED to stop stalking me) . Then he proceeded to start pacing around the room (a lovely trait that he and his brother were passed on from their father, as well), mumbling NOT INTO THE PHONE about how he didn’t know where his list was. I then reminded him, hello, you are holding a phone WITH A GIRL ON THE OTHER END SO TALK TO HER, NOT YOURSELF (while I’m thinking to myself, “Dude, really? Are you really this freaked by a girl, because you know you talk to me all the time and I’m a girl”.). He managed to pull himself together and gave her the vocab list over the phone. I tried to play it all cool by pretending to not be listening, as I did “chores” in the same room. He started giving her the list: columns, century, reproduction (WHAT?! What’s reproduction doing on a forth grade vocabulary list and why is my boy SAYING THAT WORD to a girl?!). At that point, I couldn’t take it any longer without showing visible obviousness that I was ease dropping, so I went upstairs, where I proceeded to sprout at least ten new gray hairs.
*SIGH* So, all my friends out there with little people, I have yet another morsel of advice. Cherish their smallness, their sweetness, their innocence. Because the first time you hear the word “sperm” or “reproduction” out of their mouth, it really makes you want to go hit the sauce.
Well, the boxes are all unpacked (at least the ones containing the necessities needed for us to survive for the next 5-6 months). We even have the Christmas tree up early (thought the kids would enjoy helping me do that last weekend-- plus, it got rid of the humongo box that sat in the middle of the living room floor. Life is gradually returning to its semi-normal state.
Steve met with our builders today to square away the floorplans for Chateau Clarian (at least that's what I'm going to call it on my blog, since it is the house that Clarian built). He said there were a couple glitches, the most interesting one being that they don't know how they're going to place the deck directing over the patio, so that the stairs coming down from it matches up with the patio coming off the sliding glass doors in the basement. He suggested to them that they either extend the deck over or make the patio bigger. Either way, I think I'd be alright with larger outside living areas... We'll see what the builders come up with... Also, I guess that there was a note about the frig and some other note about something that I can't remember right now...
The most exciting thing that the contractor mentioned to Hubby was that they were going to try to start digging the basement today (though I doubt it will happen, since it's been pouring rain outside all day). And that the timber for the framing will be dropped off in December, around the 22nd. And most exciting is that closing will happen around March 30th. Yippee!! Hopefully we'll start seeing progress soon...
So, as many of you know (because of my endless complaining and whining), we have been in between homes now for about two weeks. And FINALLY the move is over, the check from closing on what is now our "old" home is deposited into our savings account, awaiting its use at closing of the "new" home in six months, and most of the boxes are unpacked.
*Sigh* So, you can imagine why I have not been able to update my blog for a bit
now…
Everyone’s adjusting pretty well. The boys ended up sharing a room that used to be a girl’s room—VERY pink (think Pepto-Bismol), with Disney princesses painted on the wall. They resisted this at first, but decided the “ugly princess” room was going to be alright, considering that if they had decided on the smaller of the bedrooms, they no longer could have their toys with them. We decided to not reassemble the bed frames for them, since we’re going to move again in six months (hopefully). This was also met with some resistance (geesh, you’d think we were living in a cave or something, the way they’ve complained), but now they’re fine.
The house is definitely smaller and the boys’ voices seem to echo much louder than at the old house. But it’s a very well constructed home and I enjoy that the kitchen is right next to the family room (making it very easy to watch TV while cooking). My only real complaint is the kitchen. Whoever designed it must never cook because it’s pretty much a wall with kitchen appliances lining it. And the “pantry” (and I use that term loosely) is about the size of a small linen closet. Now, I know that I was REALLY spoiled by my old kitchen pantry (which, no joke, was a room 5 x 10 feet in dimension), but c’mon… Try cramming soup, a couple boxes of cereal, a box of poptarts, and about five cans of veggies in and that’s about it. It’s okay though—I keep thinking of the big picture and how it’s all going to be worth it very soon.
I didn’t walk away from this move completely unscathed, though. I managed to manifest one hell of a migraine earlier this week, brought on by the stress of the move, plus the stress from work. It got so bad that I threw up a couple times (while trying to move; not very fun) and begged my boss to let me go home early Thursday, regardless of if I have the time off or not. But now it’s the weekend after and the dust has settled and we’re adjusting nicely to the change of scenery.
As for the address change, all you friends and family out there will be receiving a letter explaining everything as soon as I can find the paper again. We were able to keep our home phone number, which was nice, so please drop us a call. Our cell numbers are the same, as well.
So, we’ll keep everyone posted on how it’s going. Looks like they’re starting to do something over at the new house—we’re making a trip over there here in a minute to see if there’s any progress (at least there isn’t a dumpster anymore!).
I know I'm not the first, or even close to last, person to go through a major move, but this whole process has been quite a foreign thing for me to try to cope with. Growing up, I never moved- my parents still live in the same home they built over 40 years ago. And even though I've moved pre-kids (college, and a couple times after marriage) a few times, never have we since having kids. It's like we had kids and planted roots and the thought never crossed either my mind or my husband's to take on this challenge until now.
And because of this, we're now paying the price for stock-piling junk for the past eleven years. Just today, Hubby spent a good part of the day cleaning eleven year's worth of crap from our garage. It was UNBELIEVABLE the amount of stuff there was in that one area. He even found a dirty diaper (pee, we think-- we weren't going to check for sure!) stashed on the floor behind the recycle bin (shows how often it's moved).
My parents came down today because it's my dad's birthday and I wanted them down once last time before we cram ourselves into the rental house. Naturally, I took the opportunity to ask if he could drive his truck down so I could haul stuff to Goodwill (and maybe ditch some trash in a dumpster somewhere. So, while Hubby cleaned our garage of miscellaneous broken junk and forgotten gardening tools (not to mention several half-used cans of insecticide- why we have so many is beyond me- and clouds and clouds of dust), Dad and I went first to Goodwill, where we unloaded a truck bed-full of stuff; then loaded the truck bed up with trash, which we conveniently pitched in the new home's dumpster. Yes, I asked the builder's rep first, but the neighbors didn't know that. We started noticing one particular neighbor who kept giving us the "evil eye" from her yard, as we pitched several bags of trash, followed by an old, rusty kid's bike, and several pieces of lumbar, into our "home" (the dumpster sitting on our lot). What a great first impression to make with your new neighbors, huh?! While there, we did notice stakes where the boundaries of our home are going to be-- it's exciting to see (sorta) where it's going to be placed on the lot. We're going to be pretty close to the neighbors on one side, but the back yard is going to be awesome, if we're right about the home placement.
Over the past couple weeks, I've seen our house being transformed from what was once a warm, inviting place of solitude, into a massive storage unit, full of boxes and trash bags and packing material. And because I look at it as such, I haven't given it a good scrubbing since, oh... a couple months ago. I think because it doesn't particularly feel like home anymore, it's making it easier for me to detach from thinking of it as "home" and is helping me prepare mentally for the move to our temporary "home"we'll live in until the new place is done... But, I must admit that even though I'm consciously detaching myself from the place I've called home for the past decade, it's still going to feel strange the first few times I drive by it and see other people's cars parked in front of it.
