Tripping on Asphalt
So we’ve moved! Very exciting. Also more than a little daunting and a lot time and energy consuming. We never could have made the sale happen without our amazing, Super Woman of a realtor, Doris Ghitelman. You need a realtor? Call this woman. She’s no joke.
And we never could have packed those 165 boxes in 2 days without the saintly (and a little bit masochistic) CawfeeGuy and CawfeeMate. Yes. I said it. 165 boxes in 2 days. Of all. My. Shit.
Anywhoo… I thought this would be a perfect time to give you a tour of the old digs. Which is now dismantled and is someone else’s new digs. And a perfect time to remind myself, the self that’s living amongst approximately 147 unpacked boxes in our new home, that it will get better.
See… Once upon a time, I lived like this:
But with a little bit of pixie dust and some of those cookies Alice found in the rabbit hole, it became this:
And all the while in between, which is actually the part I enjoy best, it was like this:
For me, the most stressful part is over… for a while. The selling, the packing, and the moving. I love the newness of unpacking, cleaning, reorganizing and designing a lifestyle. Designing a lifestyle with my new husband. When there are 30 boxes left and no where to put the crap, then I’ll have my next nervous breakdown. But that’s another blog post. This one’s about new beginnings. And fond farewells. And gratitude.
Mom always taught you to share
Congrats! Wow, I feel sad that we couldn’t throw a goodbye party in the apartment!
Think of the boxes this way: if you just unpack one a day (skipping weekends and holidays), you don’t have to have that breakdown for half a year or more…
“You need a realtor? Call this woman. She’s no joke”
CawfeeMate and CawfeeGuy can also be called to help move only if they are paid in food, booze and have Starbucks White Chocolate Mochas waiting for them in the mornings.