Never again, never again.

I know, I say it when it is the other way around, but this time I mean it: I am never going to move myself. When you have over 14K pounds worth of stuff, it is such a pain in the ass. Keep in mind, that the last time we moved, we had the Navy do it for us, AND.... not only did they break a TON of our stuff (dumping boxes upside down when I asked them to please put it away like they are supposed to), they made us buy them pizza, and afterward the head mover threw up on the lawn. To top it off (like this really needs to be topped off) he swept the pizza vomit off the lawn onto the sidewalk.

Yes, I am willing to take that chance.

Mark did almost all of the physical stuff, but the cleaning of the old house, including painting, minor repairs and such, as well as the organizing and putting away in the new house, is SO much work. Really, we are moving about 3000 square feet into 2600 square feet so the room is not that different, but it is an insane amount of trying to find where to put everything.

On top of that, I can't seem to resist taking out some fabric and a cool new (vintage) pattern to start another dress for Isabel. I have ideas for perhaps selling things at the craft fair up here, and having Isabel sport an entire new wardrobe in our new home - moving always seems a portal for re-inventing oneself. Maybe that is why Mark and I like the concept of moving so much - just not the actual work involved.

But the view - I can stop to look at the view and perhaps forget about it all for a while.