Remember that part, about three weeks ago, where I was suffocating in my own stress? Where I felt like I can’t breathe? The cause of which was do I move or don’t I?
The final word is in. I am moving. I found a house, I can afford it and it’s in a great school district. The town is small-ish and next to a big-ish city. Sidenote: Road shows often come into Omaha and pat it on its ickle head and say “Oh, Omaha…aren’t you cute? Trying to be big! Adorable!” I am, however, pleased with how things have come together so far.
What I am daunted by is the amount of foolishness I have to pack in the next, what, five weeks. I don’t think I have enough for a garage sale and that is, in itself, an assload of work.
I? Could use some help. And some more totes, it would seem. And tape. I’m going to need tape.
What have I gotten myself into?
Now comes the hard part. The part that I hate with the white hot heat of a thousand suns. I believe I’ve mentioned it before. Moving my belongings.