Move 'em Out!

So, as a few people know already, we are packing up our things and moving next month. This has been the hardest decision we have had to make thus far in our lives--I am stubborn (hold your surprise people!) and Daniel is more stubborn (although he'll debate that to his death--further proving my point?), so its been a rough time deciding to make what we consider to be a radical change--especially in a super crappy market. We know it's the right move. We both feel like this is the right time for us to move on, even though the thought of actually doing it terrifies me.

We're roots people, Daniel and I, and the thought of ripping up roots I've been cultivating for over five years is unappealing at best. Even though I can be kind of shy in person (yes, a loudmouth in writing, but I have to get to know people before I mouth off in person), a little over a year ago, we walked into a church function and the thought hit me "I could sit at any table here and there would be someone I know to talk to--I am comfortable with almost everyone in this room." I should have known that meant it would soon be time for a change! I know people say "a house is just a shelter, you shouldn't get attached to it emotionally, or you'll start to make unsound financial decisions" but those people aren't me. I can get (and have gotten) emotionally attached to a pencil, forget the house that we bought as newlyweds and to which we brought both our babies home from the hospital. Besides, I've never been known for my sound financial decisions, and I married an accounting major hoping he would make them for us. Turns out, he's all into equality and making decisions together, no man-of-the-house laying down the law here. What is up with that? Who am I supposed to blame for things if he won't make a move unless I'm on board? Jerkface.

The good news is that we aren't moving far, just a couple of miles away, which is great from the whole friends standpoint. Sam can stay in her preschool, and I can still call my old friends when I need a playdate. However, it is totally stinky from a "You mean I have to pack up and clean and sort all of our belongs just to move them over there?" standpoint. I hate moving. If our current backyard was wide enough to hold my coffin, I told Daniel I could be buried in it happily. I hate putting things in boxes, I hate tape guns, and I hate deep cleaning things. Moving hits that trifecta plus, since it will be May in Arizona, I will get hot and sweaty in the process. No irritation exists that isn't exponentially magnified in 100 degrees. Now I'm just really on a complaint roll!

So, off we head on our adventure for the decidedly unadventurous! I really like the new house--it's a little bit larger, it has a yard, and a lot of cupboards, closets, and drawers, which are certainly lacking in our current abode. We even got Sam a trampoline for her third birthday since there will be a yard to put it in. It has a huge kitchen, which makes even my non-cooking heart cheer. I can't imagine what going from my kitchen to this huge one would do for someone who actually knows how to use it! Plus, the garage is lined with cabinets, and my anal husband is in OCD heaven at the thought of what he'll put in them. I have my own OCD heaven as I bought new tape for my label maker and am labeling every electronic cord in sight to prepare for putting everything back together. I love labels! I'm going to try to ignore my dislike of taping boxes and ruining my hands by thinking about all the things I'll label...

Anyway, if you've been wondering why I've been stressed to the MAX lately, there you go. I have a newborn, and on top of that, we haven't known where we'll be living until this week. It's enough to make a non-hormonal woman lose her mind. But mine is still (mostly) here, and now that we know where and when we're going, I can focus on getting through the move and enjoying my baby boy.
Next on the worry list--will I find friends who love me despite my gratuitous use of parentheses, ellipses, hyphens, and commas? We shall see...