pick a box, any box
I am digging through the rubble in an attempt to put my new house together. This is reason number one to hate moving.
I’ve moved before, of course. I’ve done it many, many times. I’ve moved cross country twice. Both times were corporate moves where the movers come in and pack up for you, move all of your belongings, and then unpack at the new destination. I’ve also had moves where I packed my own things and moved across town. I’m not sure if there is much of a difference once you get all of your stuff inside a new home. Movers may unpack for you, but they certainly don’t put things away. That job will always rest solely on your shoulders. Or mine as it were.
So today was spent doing little more than putting things away.
Since the sink was now draining properly thanks to my husband’s fast acting drain cleaner, I decided to wash some dishes. This was a wonderful idea until I discovered that the sink has a crack in it and leaks into the cabinet below.
I suppose I could use the dishwasher, but it’s gross so I refuse. I won’t use a dishwasher until my very own dishwasher is installed.
I should have that same conviction where the stove is concerned, but I did cook dinner this evening—using an electric stove. I miss my six burner Wolf gas stove. Changing the stove is also on the long “do to list.”
Who knows when we will get to that.
But I need to remember that Rome wasn’t built in a day, and my house won’t be put together in a weekend. At least not this weekend.
I guess I could keep shooting for the one after that.
Until the next time…I’ll be unpacking!