I think I have been procrastinating writing.
I am waiting to say "we are all settled!!" and then show pictures and talk about our fabulous new life and house and friends and all that. So I feel like a teeny bit of a failure for every day that goes by I can't say that. And that feeling makes me stare at a blank screen and decide that writing about anything is silly.
But not today.
Yes, there are still boxes to be unpacked. Two of them. Full of the random flotsam of our lives. Not quite sure how to tackle any thing in those boxes and sorely tempted to seal it with packing tape and hide them in the garage. But, for now, they remain, flaps askew and glaring at me, in the living room.
There are boxes to be moved to the attic. Boxes (and boxes and boxes) full of what the homeowner left behind. Things not important enough to take with her to her new house but not unimportant enough to throw away. The idea of leaving something behind to use later is weird. I asked what she wanted us to do with the curtains, books, hangers, clothing and she said to just throw them in the attic. So we have boxed it and stacked the boxes near the attic access and are waiting for a free evening to move them up there. Weird.
No, we don't have friends. This is a reoccurring issue for me. Every move brings mega anxiety that our family will be lonely. It always works out though. Our family is ridiculously blessed when it comes to the friends we have made along the way. I am just impatient and miss my good neighbors.
I will say today was the first day I woke up and felt like I was home. After sleeping on a borrowed bed for several weeks, a hotel bed in Waikiki for a week, and a hotel bed in Savannah for two weeks, waking up in MY bed has been lovely. And waking up in my bed in my house without the feeling of "where the heck am I?!" this morning was really lovely.
Our house is nice. Big and open and colorful. My two favorite rooms, the kitchen and the family room, are blue. The living/dining room, hallway up the stairs, and master bedroom are a muted yellow-gold. Em's room is a mauve color. Nic and Matt's is the flat white of rental homes with a bright Kelly green wall in the desk nook. The guest room is a mish-mash of blue and stencils and is on my "project list" for repainting. It might seem strange that I am talking more about the colors of the walls than anything else about the house but after living in rental spaces since college (grand total of 14 years) where painting was absolutely forbidden (or at least a huge pain in the rear end), having a home with color on the walls and the ability to add/change colors is awesome. Luckily for Andy and our budget I hate painting, so I plan on changing just the guest room. And maaaaaaybe Emerson's room. Maybe.
We are all settling in...adjusting to a new life and routine.
I am waiting to say "we are all settled!!" and then show pictures and talk about our fabulous new life and house and friends and all that. So I feel like a teeny bit of a failure for every day that goes by I can't say that. And that feeling makes me stare at a blank screen and decide that writing about anything is silly.
But not today.
Yes, there are still boxes to be unpacked. Two of them. Full of the random flotsam of our lives. Not quite sure how to tackle any thing in those boxes and sorely tempted to seal it with packing tape and hide them in the garage. But, for now, they remain, flaps askew and glaring at me, in the living room.
There are boxes to be moved to the attic. Boxes (and boxes and boxes) full of what the homeowner left behind. Things not important enough to take with her to her new house but not unimportant enough to throw away. The idea of leaving something behind to use later is weird. I asked what she wanted us to do with the curtains, books, hangers, clothing and she said to just throw them in the attic. So we have boxed it and stacked the boxes near the attic access and are waiting for a free evening to move them up there. Weird.
No, we don't have friends. This is a reoccurring issue for me. Every move brings mega anxiety that our family will be lonely. It always works out though. Our family is ridiculously blessed when it comes to the friends we have made along the way. I am just impatient and miss my good neighbors.
I will say today was the first day I woke up and felt like I was home. After sleeping on a borrowed bed for several weeks, a hotel bed in Waikiki for a week, and a hotel bed in Savannah for two weeks, waking up in MY bed has been lovely. And waking up in my bed in my house without the feeling of "where the heck am I?!" this morning was really lovely.
Our house is nice. Big and open and colorful. My two favorite rooms, the kitchen and the family room, are blue. The living/dining room, hallway up the stairs, and master bedroom are a muted yellow-gold. Em's room is a mauve color. Nic and Matt's is the flat white of rental homes with a bright Kelly green wall in the desk nook. The guest room is a mish-mash of blue and stencils and is on my "project list" for repainting. It might seem strange that I am talking more about the colors of the walls than anything else about the house but after living in rental spaces since college (grand total of 14 years) where painting was absolutely forbidden (or at least a huge pain in the rear end), having a home with color on the walls and the ability to add/change colors is awesome. Luckily for Andy and our budget I hate painting, so I plan on changing just the guest room. And maaaaaaybe Emerson's room. Maybe.
We are all settling in...adjusting to a new life and routine.
