First, let me start by saying I am alive… barely.

Second, I don’t care if asteroids land in the middle of the Earth at the same time as two coastal tsunamis, an earthquake, boulder sized hail, several tornadoes and the second coming of Jesus Himself, I am NOT moving again any time soon.

During this entire two week hiatus, I have seen more boxes and packing tape and garbage bags full of what the hell is that and when did we buy it, I have no idea what to do with myself. Moving trucks, minivans and sedans filled to the brim of so much mess, I haven’t the slightest what’s salvageable and what’s most certainly a prime example of me buying crap I didn’t need. I mean, who needs drawers full of kitchen utensils? Cabinets full of unused cleaning products? Shelves of repeatedly bought tools? Yeah, I’m looking at you BFam! Who needs a hamper full of Happy Meal toys, Mooter?! WHO?!

I’d planned on showing you photos of the house pre-move in. But in the Harry Carey of the situation, both BFam and I neglected such a milestone in the annals of our scrapbooks and this here blog. I would take pictures now, but just the thought of seeing one more box and knowing that, as I sit here and type this, I still don’t have internet at home, still have places to call to notify them of our address and phone number change, still have boxes to unpack, still have rooms to clean, still have beds to assemble, still have painting to do… yeah, well. Let’s just say I don’t want to have to explain to my doctor why I’ve never needed Prozac but might be considering it.

In due time, I will post pictures. I will gradually pick up my publishing frequency. And I will begin to feel like I’m not a stranger in a house on a street where my children can actually play and not hear gun shots.