We are packed and moved out. All of our stuff, except for a hearty month’s worth of June Gloom-appropriate clothes in luggage bound for San Diego after a few days with my in-laws in rural Connecticut, is in a storage unit in New Haven while we wait to move to our new adventure.
Moving stinks. It just is the worst. I don’t even want to think about how we have to do this again 1) a month from now and 2) a year from now. We are exhausted and I didn’t even do much, if any, heavy lifting thanks to some chivalrous Saturday sacrifices from three of our manliest friends.
I am exhausted, however, by trying to pack with a toddler. You know that video going around Facebook of the stay-at-home mom who gets nothing done because her baby immediately pulls clean clothes out of the dryer or sets fire to things or whatever? That was this week, but without the quirky music. In lieu of another wordy nostalgic post about our magical first apartment, I give you a photo set of Christopher, being helpful.
Being helpful in the kitchen
Shout out to Martha who was actually helpful in relieving us of Mr. Grump for a bit on Saturday morning. I’m so thankful for the friends around us. This weekend would have involved far more stress crying without them.
I’m going to go pass out now. Godspeed to all you movers and shakers out there.