We moved this week. That one sentence is smack full of emotion, stress, relief, anxiety, hope, and exhaustion.
Our closing in on Friday, but we moved out the weekend before because we didn’t want to be rushed and I wanted to have the time to properly clean the “old” house before we shut the doors for the last time. (I might cry.) But this also means that we are unpacking and shuffling things in and out of boxes. We are staying with Jamie’s mom for a few weeks while we continue to search for a house. So basically we are camping out, living out of suitcases, squatting, whatever phrase you like. I’m so grateful that Jamie’s mom is awesome, and is happy to have us here. … But still its just not ours, ya know?
After the truck was unloaded, the beds were re-assembled, and walking paths were cleared through the rubble, the first thing Jamie did was set up the wireless internet. Haha. The first thing I did was set up the bathroom.
Nothing says “vacation” or “just visiting” like carrying a shower bag with all your stuff in it back and forth from your sleeping quarters to the bathroom. So in order to feel like home, my toothbrush needed a home. I don’t think home is where the heart is, I think home is where your toothbrush lives. You can sleep anywhere, but if your toothbrush is all snuggly and warm in its little cup beside the sink, and your girlie goods have a hiding place, then you can feel settled.
Now begins the awkward dance of adjusting to a new home, someone else’s home, and how your life works in this new territory. But at least my toothbrush has staked its claim.