we’re doing everything for the last time over here.
last time cleaning the bathroom.
last time cleaning the other bathroom.
last time taking out the trash/recycling/yard debris. (i mean — we’ll leave it all by the curb when we drive away, but i’m counting right now as the last “real” time.) (whatever. i’m not getting nostalgic about garbage over here, for cripe’s sake, i just am checking it all off on the check list in my head.)
last time i’m looking in these bathroom drawers again, i mean it. how many hairbrushes does one family need, anyway? two of us refuse to even brush our hair. (One kid/one adult. You guess who.)
i hope i remember to take my wedding dress out of the hidey-place where i stashed it in the closet.
i’m pretty sure that the people who are buying our house have found our blogs. it’s not like we’re incognito or something. how weird would that be, to you, to read what is basically the online diary of the former owner of your house? I don’t think i’d want to know. i think i’d sidestep that one and not spy on them.
i am really discombobulated because the effin’ tivo is not working and how am i supposed to record “Modern Family”? damn. the whole thing is crashed and it won’t even boot.
also, i can’t remember where half my things are. I am having one heckuva time memorizing our new address because it is Long Fancy Address. So i wrote it on my hand, and i made my daughter memorize it, so when I forget it she can tell me what it is. When you ask our son what the new address is, he sings NAH NAH NAH NAH and stuffs his fingers in his ears. When you ask him what our OLD address is he does the same thing. He is mommy’s boy.
(he and i are the ones who refuse to brush our hair.)
moving is weird.