…is tomorrow. Officially. Or unofficially, I guess. It’s kind of weird, because we’re moving out tomorrow- movers come at 8am- but we don’t close on the houses until 9am on Thursday morning. And we’re not actually going to be technically living at the new house until Friday when the movers come to deliver all of our stuff. We’re staying at my parents’ house for the two nights in between. Because really, we thought that moving was SO! MUCH! FUN! that we’d spread it out over three or four days. I know. HOW GENIUS OF US.
If you follow me on Twitter, I want to apologize for my insane, frantic posts today about my Satan Spawn Child who decided that, after something like EIGHT MONTHS of napping without protest, she would choose TODAY to skip her nap. Yeah. It was really excellent. And not only did she not nap, she was whiny and sick and clingy and Mommy was contemplating wrapping her up in packing tape. (not really.) (okay maybe for a second, if I’m being totally honest.) She finally lost her 7-hour battle with sleep around 8pm tonight.
So! Our house is packed. Mostly, anyway. There are always those random odds & ends that you can’t really pack until like, two seconds before you walk out the door. And for a List-Maker like myself, THIS IS VERY ANNOYING. There is no ‘WE’RE DONE!’ There is only: ‘EH, THAT’S CLOSE ENOUGH. GOOD NIGHT!’
In other news, Dan turned 30 today. He’s so lucky to get to spend his 30th birthday packing boxes, disconnecting the washer and dryer, and picking up the pieces of my skull off of the ceiling from when it exploded earlier in the day after my 5th hour of Dealing With A Whiny Toddler.
Happy Birthday, sweetheart. I can’t wait to walk into our new house with you on Thursday.