I was hoping to never have to do this by myself again.
I have packed and unpacked 13 times in 13 years.
Five times I have done so to load up and move across the country to chase dreams or to come back home.
Bigger moves were due to work obligations.
My next move is just a Life's Bucket List move.
This time I am packing up for good.
Well, at least for the next 5 years or so.
I am packing up the old rental house and moving into MY house.
Not an apartment, not the parental units' house, not a loft.
23 days to go.
The Natives are nervous and circling the boxes as if they are convinced some fearless honey badger is going to jump out and attack the shit out of them. The geriatric beagle is experiencing the most hideous form of diahrea I've ever seem a creature of God expel. She's nervous I am going to leave her behind and if she keeps up her antics of shredding my packing paper, I will.
Yesterday in the midst of moving boxes, I found a Black Widow and nearly shit my pants. Amaze-balls that something so small had me crawling out of my skin. I was gun shy (understatement) about hitting the sheets for fear that the spider's entire army of fearless 8-legged creeps would march down the hall to my bedroom and bite the hell out of me in the middle the night. Needless, I made it through the night, but not without letting The Natives sleep in my bed to protect me from the little creepy-crawlies.
I'm AmericanBridget and next time I move, I hope it is with some handsome prince with a fabulous set of muscles.