When I was growing up, my parents loved to fix up old houses and then have us move into them...and then sell them. And move again. And again. I never have lived in a house longer than 4 years. Billy and I just moved for the 3rd time in our 3-year marriage. It is the 14th time I've moved since I left home at age 18.
I LOATHE MOVING.
It is terrible for a person like me who gets attached to places. When I was in 8th grade, my parents bought a big piece of property and built a brand new house. While the house was being built, we lived in trailer. Yes, a trailer. A double-wide, to be exact. After 8 months in the trailer, when our new glorious, beautiful house was finished, I didn't want to leave the trailer! I also get a tad attached to objects. Like clothes I wore on special occasions, that I will never fit into or wear again. Or notes from my 3rd grade teacher. Fabric I'm sure I'll use for a project someday. Concert ticket stubs from 1996. If I didn't care about entertaining people in my house or being socially acceptable, I would probably be on that reality show that exposes hoarders.
So...I'm still in the midst of unpacking and organizing in our new house. (And yes, Mom, throwing stuff away that we don't need.) Luckily, we signed a 2-year lease. That's like 16 years in dog-year-moving-years! Pics of the new house coming soon...
