At the time, my mom and Sam’s mom said that we shouldn’t be so upset, that we weren’t meant to be in that house because something better would come along. We didn’t at all agree with their optimism. I wallowed in self-pity for several days and then we began hunting for a different home.
Last Monday we looked at another townhouse that proved to be even smaller than the town house we currently live in. Then we drove by a house near my work that was for rent. Luckily, the landlady’s son was around to show us the house. We were even more in love with this home: large yard, hardwood floors, sunroom, pantry, fireplace, 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms AND a basement with enough room for Sam to have a man cave and for me to have a craft lair.
We offered a deposit on the spot, but were told the house was pretty much already rented. Hence, three more days of pouting. Wednesday night I finally decided we would just stay in our too small apartment and make it work; I was sick of not knowing when or if we would move. I prepared myself to crunch Hope and Atticus in a bedroom together and prayed it would work.
Then on Thursday everything changed. Landlady’s son showed up at my work and asked if we wanted the house, we viewed it a second time that night and signed a lease on Friday. And guess when we move? NEXT SATURDAY!
That’s right, I have exactly 7 days to pack everything, change utilities, and start moving in to our new home. Ack! In addition my sister’s wedding was this past weekend and I have super major work projects due this week. Needless to say, I’m a bit busy.
I’ve spent most of the morning packing up books. Packing my books is always my first step in moving. I think this is because I like to do it myself and I like to envision my new bookshelves.
All this to say — I might not be around much, or, I’ll decide to procrastinate and blog instead of packing.
Wish us luck!