I moved to a new state. Suddenly. Three months ago today, as a matter of fact, I found out we were moving. I was serenely, (not) trying to hot glue gun flags for a pirate pool party commencing 36 hours later for my 8 year old and 16 other 8 year olds while awaiting the arrival of 5 out of town guests when my husband calls.
I could just freeze that last part “…when my husband calls”. I would like to pause here and take a moment. Yup. Last time I rested since…well, when my husband called.
“Guess what?” he says. Boy was I in trouble. “We’re moving…either to Pennsylvania or Alabama and I have to report no later than July 26th”. So here’s me. I really don’t have time for this NOW. And I really didn’t. I had house guests, and birthday parties, and the end of school, and tee ball and baseball and it was all happening on top of each other. I had work and life and we aren’t suppose to move for another year AT LEAST.
Then the realtor came. He staged my house (because folks you can’t stage your own) and then it was on the market. Exactly 7 days later from when we found out–despite pirate pool parties and a lot of crazy.
Then the house was under contract. Exactly 7 days from when we put it on the market despite a whole lot of crazy. Twenty-four hours later I’m speeding with a family packed car to Detroit for 10 days pit stopping in Carlisle, Pennsylvania, my new home, to power house hunt…for 24 hours. Signed a year rental agreement for a beautiful old house without going inside of it (I mean who has the time?) and then vacationed in Detroit (who doesn’t?).
July 26th we said good-bye to Virginia (our home for 6 years) and hello to Pennsylvania (our home for 11 months).
Oh so much in between I am skipping, for today.
