life is really just a 70's rerun
After careful consideration, I’ve decided the worst part about moving is the unpacking. I still have boxes stacked everywhere. I don’t even know what’s in them anymore. I know I wanted everything as I was filling them. I remember thinking I would be heart-broken without the ceramic rabbits and silver-plated Bulldog salt and pepper shakers. Now I dread unpacking them and finding a new place to put them. But dread or no dread, I made a good bit of headway today. I managed to clear a wider path through the living room and even hung a clock on the wall. Hey, I even have hot water after more than a week of nothing but cold. Now, if only I could get the washer and dryer connected so I can wash clothes.
Oh well…baby steps, right?
At least I finally got my husband to clear out the back of the old pick-up truck before I had the entire city of Blue Ridge humming the theme to Sanford and Son as I roll by. Hey, it could happen.
Who am I kidding? It did happen.
I went to the farmer’s market yesterday and a man actually came up to me humming the theme song as I got out of the truck. I had to laugh. It was kinda funny. I spent the better part of the weekend laughing at my husband as he drove the truck.
But this was me. I don’t drive junk-filled pick-ups. I don’t drive trucks at all. I drive a Kia Soul. Powered by hamsters, or something like that.
Right…apparently I do, now that I’m a farmer’s wife. Even if my farmer husband has been too busy with his day job of Network Engineer to do much of anything else this week, leaving me to fend for myself with the unpacking.
Oh well…it happens.
I just hope he wasn’t hoping I would unpack his underwear or anything. I’m sure it’s on my to-do list. Somewhere near the bottom…below the silver-plated dogs and the ceramic rabbits.
Until the next time…I’ll be driving my Kia again!