I just worked a 26-hour shift on the move, from 8:00 a.m. Tuesday until 9:00 a.m. Wednesday—minus twenty minutes or so, trying to sleep next to my husband on the floor of the old house in the middle of the night. We started working again at 4:00 a.m., stopping only to have a few spirited words about how pleasant it is to move from a house to a condo with half the square footage—and how great it is to sort through twelve years' worth of accumulated stuff as dawn breaks on the day the new owners are set to take possession of the House on the Hill.

We've been napping in shifts, though it's a bit warm in our new bedroom: we need window treatments in there to cut down on the glare. The first time the cable/phone person showed up, A the H took the lead. The second time, I did, while he started his nap.

I'm eating part of a leftover bagel, and drinking some milk to get some protein in me and cut the dehydration. The idea of figuring what we're going to eat tonight sounds overwhelming, as does bending over, lifting anything, or even getting dressed.

I had all kinds of plans for setting up the new kitchen very quickly, but that isn't going to happen. The new place looks great, but we are both exhausted and hurting: sometime after dawn, I realized I was sort of shuffling around like an 85-year-old. I couldn't even really walk.

Life keeps pitching, and we keep hitting.

More blogging later. Maybe.

UPDATE: The alert will notice that I've now blogged the equivalent of my eight-year "decade," or Obama's 57-state Union. I've always thought I should get some extra time each day, and I guess that desire is bound to come out every now and then . . .

Posted by: Attila Girl at 03:57 PM | Comments (7) | Add Comment
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