Our Deluxe Duplex in the Sky

Moving into the duplex sounded good in theory, but when it came to actually "moving," it became quite a downer. I sorta, kinda HATE moving. Mostly this is due to my traumatizing memories of moving in and out of dorm rooms in the hot, sticky,and stinky Mississippi summers. Hours of my life were spent hauling tvs, textbooks, and shower shoes (are those really necessary?) upstairs after the inevitable breakdown of the elevators.

I thought this move would be pretty simple. We got the keys a week before we moved, so every night we brought over the OMG NEVERENDING boxes. I was gobsmacked by how much crap we had managed to collect. Our crap can be divided into three categories: the awesome new stuff we were gifted for no longer living in sin, the stuff that we actually need, and the stuff my husband won't get rid of because of his "sentimental" attachment. I have to be honest, I don't really understand sentimentality when it comes to many things. I feel like you always have the memories, even if the objects are gone. Now I save really important stuff like my grandmother's pearls or my teddy bear from childhood, but not little everyday trinkets. I hate clutter, and I hate having anything laying around that doesn't serve a purpose.

My husband is all about his "stuff", and he is attached to the most random things. For example, when we were packing up the kitchen, I decided we no longer needed his old, cracking measuring cups since we had some nice, newer ones. He got the saddest, most hang-dog look on his face and said, "Those were my measuring cups from my bachelor days...." Say What?!? I really couldn't wrap my head around why the measuring cups from his single days would be so important. All I could picture was them taking up extra space in the kitchen drawers that we don't really have to spare. But I did what any good wife would do, and told him he could keep them, therefore protecting his sacred cooking memories from his bachelorhood. Adam ended up tossing them out on his own. Marriage, it takes compromise. However, I would have happily kept the cups, in exchange for his really gross, cheeto-stained, and ripped kitchen towels from his "bachelor days."

It doesn't matter how much we had prepared for the move, the day of the move still sucked. It was very hot, and by the end of the day we were sore, cranky, tired, and dehydrated. But on the plus side, we had our DVR service transferred the same day. So we found a way to not even go ONE DAY without TV, does this say something about us as couple? The next day we woke up feeling just as bad, but we had to go clean up the old place. When we got to the cottage, I saw the mountains and mountains of dog hair that needed to be cleaned up (how does that dog even still have any hair?), and all we still had left to do. Yes, I will admit to crying over having to do so much cleaning.I will blame this on both my fatigued state and the injustice of it all (ha!). Oye, that was a pathetic moment.

We are all moved in now, and enjoying the new place. I think Sarah has finally figured out that this is her home now. We are enjoying the eccentricities of our new neighborhood. Not only do we have an ice cream truck, we also have a hot dog truck, and a man that sells strawberries door-to-door. I will not be moving again, anytime soon.

365 days ago (give or take):

1. Number of Freeways I’ve driven on: 1 (accidentally and traumatizing). 2. Number of Freeways I’m planning on driving on in the future: 0 (Are you kidding?!? See above).

Stats on my life in California as of last year.