A few days back, Rich and I were reminiscing about our first move after we were married. We've moved many a time in our years together (eleven, if I counted correctly). But that one is sort of memorable--we were really starting out our lives together, moving off for the first time to a place where we knew no one. But what we were talking about was just how different that move was from this one. Back then we rented a small U-Haul, loaded it up, and drove the 5-ish hours to our new home. We arrived about 4:00 in the afternoon. By about midnight, we'd unloaded the whole truck, carried everything up the two flights of stairs to our apartment on the third floor of this old house, cleaned the place, and completely unpacked and set up shop.
Yeah, it's a different story this time. We've been here for almost four weeks now and we're nowhere near being fully settled in. Nowhere near. But life is different now. It's a bigger place to get ready, a filthier place to get ready. We've gone from a family of two humans and one cat to a family of five humans, two cats, one dog, one tarantula, two snakes, six mice, one scorpion, one giant millipede, a handful of hissing cockroaches, two frogs, and a small tank of fish and snails. (Please forgive me, if I've forgotten anyone.) We have A LOT more stuff now, despite our earnest efforts at downsizing. And quite frankly, we're older and slower.
Still, I never thought it would take *this* long to get settled. I'm craving the end of this road so we can just get on to living. Not that we're not living now, obviously...but I mean living with a little routine, a little time to do something other than clean and unpack.
In a sense I got my wish. Though really it's just a postponement. In a move of classic Debi clumsiness, I was carrying a box of stuff that Max had weeded out down the steep, narrowly-treaded staircase, and fell. With a huge amount of pain in my ankle and unable to get the swelling to go down at all, we decided "better safe than sorry" and headed off to an urgi-care center. X-rays confirmed that it really was just a bad sprain, but now I have to stay off it as the doctor put it, "as much as humanly possible for a week and absolutely no stairs." So much for unpacking.
Seriously, I can't even be upset. All I can do anymore is laugh. (Yet still secretly, or not-so-secretly, continue to hope that our luck will indeed turn around one of these days.) I shall make good use of this "mini-vacation" by trying to get a dent in all the reading I need to do for school. And hey, maybe I'll even crochet a little. :)