This house is so cute. It's in a super quiet neighborhood about 5 blocks away from the elementary school playground, three blocks from the bus the Bubba will take to work, or only 7.5 miles from downtown on his bike. It's close to Golden Garden bluffs and beach.
It's a two bedroom, which is what we're in now, but it's so much nicer. The living space is better laid out with big windows NONE of which look into neighbors' windows. I know! I didn't think it was possible in the city either! It has a full livable basement with an extra bedroom and bathroom down there (Family! Friends! Come visit! We finally have room for you!), and a huge play space. I imagine ride-on toys going around in circles and two Littles down there fighting over the bouncy balls! The fully fenced backyard is one-third patio complete with a wood-burning chiminea, one-third fruit and vegetable garden (Artichokes! Berries! Sour cherry tree!), and one-third grass. Lucy LOVES it. So do I.
First, before any of that can be enjoyed, is the purgatory.
I have been working on sorting and packing for (ONLY) three days, and I'm so exhausted I could barely drag my pregnant self out of bed this morning. Right now, Lucy is parked in front of Sesame Street and I am staring blankly into the abyss that is our "pantry" - really it's a Let's Throw Whatever Worthless Junk In Here That We Don't Know What To Do With room. I spent all day packing and organizing it yesterday, and you really wouldn't be able to tell just by looking. Is there anything more disheartening?
I've already taken an entire trunk load of stuff to the Goodwill and there's a new pile started. Every time I get caught with a "Oh, but this is great because...." I repeat my battle cry: "RUTHLESS! MERCILESS!" and in the Out pile it goes. The Bubba drew the line at the crystal champagne toasting flutes from our wedding. Me: But we've NEVER USED THEM. Bubba: But they're SPECIAL. Me: Whatever (hoarder).
My dining room table is covered with random crap I'm not sure what to do with, I have a stack of boxes started by the piano, and another in the corner of the bedroom. The only thing keeping me going is the fact that we signed a lease. We're moving. It's a reality, so deal with it, Lizzie. But really I'd like to curl in a ball and say, "But I'm too TIRED."
And then Lucy. She's generally done very well so far this week. She is a big fan of putting stuff in boxes and dumping it out. Especially the clean laundry I haven't folded for the last three days. (I knew there was a reason I wasn't doing that chore.) She goes between filling her own boxes and screaming at me to push her around in an empty tupperware bin.
I'm overwhelmed with this job. The pregnancy hormones make me weepy and give me an awesome Can't-Do-It! attitude. But! You eat the elephant one bite at a time, right? As soon as I get through this "pantry" maybe I'll feel better. Ugh. WHO NEEDS A RAT'S NEST OF EIGHTEEN EXTENSION CORDS?