It’s always a little nostalgic when you sell your house. It’s time for us to move on, but I’m dreading it. I will miss this house. When we bought it seven years ago, we claimed we were never leaving. Now we no longer own our own home; we’re just tenants. And although we’ve bid on another house, our future is still somewhat uncertain.
I’m sitting at the kitchen table drinking hot tea, tired, still sick, and a little blah. The cardboard boxes mock me from the next room. What? You think we’re going to pack ourselves? I’m strongly considering just throwing everything out, and only packing kitchen items, food, and clothing. I swear we had three kids, and somehow our stuff multiplied by ten… Thousand.
Suddenly, the Ballerina Princess Monster comes running into the kitchen, all excited and yelling. “Mommy, I have something for you! It’s a present! Open it Mommy! Open it!” She throws the “present” right in the middle of the table. And there it is, in all its fluorescent peach goodness, a maxi-pad!
Apparently, I also have some things I might need to pack up in the bathroom.