The home stretch. The final countdown. (Duh nuh nuh nuh....) It's our last few days here in this apartment, and while I'm beyond excited to move on to the next chapter in our lives, I'd be lying if I said I weren't just a little bit freaked out.
This is the first time in a long time that I've moved out of my comfort zone. I mean, anyone else recall those tumultuous months of late 2006 and early 2007? Oye. And this time around, I can't even have a drink to calm my nerves. Though looking back, my nerves should have been waaaaaaaaay relaxed given the amounts I was imbibing and it still turned into a freaking nightmare. Oh Dubuque, how I don't miss you.
But anyway. Back to the topic at hand. And at foot. And eye level. We're moving. And I've been packing like a crazy woman. There are boxes EVERYWHERE. Not even joking. If there was free space, it is now filled with boxes. I am an expert in Uhaul packing supplies. Honorary employee, even. Nick had the nerve to be moderately upset because I'm buying boxes. I quickly quelled those concerns by telling him that buying boxes is cheaper than getting rid of bed bugs or fleas or whatever else I happen to bring home because I'm relying on the kindness and cleanliness of strangers to provide us with quality moving supplies. Plus, I'm a little OCD about many things, and boxes that match and stack ever-so-neatly are good for my nerves. It's like real-life Tetris.
The last few days before a move are stressful, I think. I'm to the point where things are going in boxes haphazardly and even though I'm the one doing the packing, it stresses me out. But I do it because I just want it done. So when we're in the new house and I'm desperately searching for dish soap, remind me that it's in the box with the baby wipes, Wii remotes, bathroom wash clothes and oatmeal bath soak. Because that just makes sense, damn it.