Through a series of unforseen events, our moving date has been moved. Because we like to keep things complicated.
So instead of having 2-3 weeks to prepare for the movers to come, sort our stuff for our temporary living space and storage, and eat everything in the freezer, we have less than a week.
Yeah, less than a week.
It’s both good and bad. Good that our family will not have to be separated very long. Good that we will get to settle into our new place sooner than we thought. Bad that we have less than a week to prep for/have a garage sale, sort out the kids’ rooms (since they will be sharing and much of their stuff must go to storage), and decide what else we can live without for a while.
It’s all fun and games until, in a fit of mild insanity, I get busted for trying to throw away a crazy straw.
I know. I’m evil to the core.
Don’t worry. Said crazy straw was fished out of the trash can by a certain nearly-heartbroken five year-old. It’s safely resting beside the sink, waiting to be lovingly hand washed. Right before the movers lose it next week. Oh, you didn’t know I could see the future, did you?
I also foresee that we’ll be eating chicken nuggets and frozen pizza for the next several days. It’s a painful truth. And the kids will love it.