Observations from a Week of Moving and Cleaning:
Moving is like childbirth. It sounds like a good idea until you’re in the middle of it, at which point you vow to never do it again. Until you forget how horrible it was and do it again.
There comes a certain age at which you should stop schlepping everything you own yourself. We’re just about there.
People actually clean their grout. I had no idea, nor did I realize that my own grout (kitchen floor) was supposed to be anything other than black. Five toothbrushes and a few hours later, it’s no longer black. But seriously, don’t people have better things to do?
In nine years, I managed to completely avoid cleaning my refrigerator. Kevin cleaned it a few times and my mom cleaned it each time I had a baby. Thankfully, the babies were numerous. I aim to live cleaner in my new house.
Moving offers a fresh start. I’m full of vision about how we’re going to not only live cleaner, but be more organized, eat better, pray more, and spend more quality time together. (Nevermind that if someone were telling me this, I’d be thinking, “Yeah, good luck with that.”)
My mom and I now listen to the same music. This says much more about me than I care to think about.
Even those of us with a high tolerance for organizational chaos can only live so long without certain necessities—like a belt. My solution seems to be eating ice cream every day so that belts are no longer necessary.
Any place where your family is starts to feel like home. Even if it’s a car repair shop.
