That's right, I'm moving in five days.
That's five more days of painting, cleaning, packing, working two jobs, painting, cleaning and packing! I hold no illusions that everything will be painted, cleaned or packed within the next five days but I do know that the number of nights I will lay my head down to sleep under my parents' roof is dwindling.
How weird to even say that. How weird for that even to be true.
I've been working on this house since March 10 and wanted to be in by April 1 -- I wish I knew what I was smoking way back then, I should get some more of that -- and will be in by May 1. I will be in by May 1 whether I'm ready, the house is ready or my parents are ready.
I'm more than ready for the stress of this situation to be over. I'm more than ready to spend Saturdays reading a book instead of painting. I'm more than ready to live with all of my belongings under one roof. I'm more than ready to see what this next phase of my life holds for me.
I'm not all that ready to stop living where I live today, though. I walked through the house this morning and had this weird 'not too many times left that you'll walk through this living room on your way out the door to work' feeling that sucker-punched me in the belly.
It's all good, it's all what I want, it's just starting to feel more sentimental as it begins to feel more real. Even though I've been working my butt off at that house nearly every day for more than six weeks, it hasn't really seemed like it was 'my' house -- you know, one that I'll live in soon. It was more like a place to go to work.
This is weird.
Just wanted to post a quick update, cross your fingers for me this week that I get everything done that needs to be done (we'll let that 'wants to be done list' alone for a few days ;)