We’re in! We’re in the new house! And all the fun things like TV and Wi-Fi are (mostly) set up, so I can finally communicate via blog without having to sneak away to a coffee shop somewhere, which clearly could not happen anyway because I’d have to drag along a 3-year-old and a baby and somehow try to accomplish something and just no.
If you’ve known me for two seconds — or even if you’re a complete stranger who just happened to read the intro on my home page — you are aware that I’m not a huge fan of change. I get so comfortable in my surroundings that it’s maybe a little bit self-destructive.
I am a total anti-hoarder when it comes to things, but with people and places my head is kind of a cluttered mess. I hold on much longer than I probably should. Fully letting go makes me uncomfortable. Every time I’ve had to move out of something — my parents’ house, my dorm room, my very first tiny third-floor apartment — I’d get all weepy and wistful. This happened whether I lived there for two days or two years. I could take a mini vacation, and as the hotel room door swung slowly closed, I’d be like, “BUT THE MEMORIES!” Continue reading