With six days until moving day, I am ready to give over to the idea that this move is actually going to happen, which means I have an incredible amount of packing to do. The movers come Monday.
With nowhere to go, we are headed to my parents for the last two weeks of summer. We will return to either a rental or a Residence Inn, in September. A Residence Inn, if we find a house we like before we sign a lease, a rental, if we don’t. Neither of these ideas is very appealing, but I suppose, if I had to choose, it would be the Residence Inn. At least, then, I would know that we’d be moving in to our next house by the end of the September.
With a rental, we could be stuck for a year.
It’s all kind of dicey and I’m trying real hard to call on the part of me that’s always operates best under pressure. The problem is, I’m not the only one who has to operate. I have to hope that my kids can function this way, too.
Speaking of kids, I still need to enroll them in school, CCD, and sports.
I haven’t called the movers, yet, to tell them we will need storage. I have to get the fireplace guy, who I am sure is swindling me, back out to fix a suspicious (or so he says) lip in my fireplace.
I’m trying to remain calm. I vacillate between butterflies in my stomach, excitement and shutdown mode, which usually occurs around 8:30, when overwhelmed and tired, I retreat to my bed to read, all the while knowing I should probably be burning the midnight oil, packing.
Where I can’t be, right now, is on the computer. So, I will sign off for now and keep you posted.