Evidently there is a time and a place for unbridled optimism.
We also have some major thanks going out to John's mom, who has spent much of the last two weekends with Jules while we've made this final HUGE push to finish the ground floor. Once we settled in today, I thought, "How THE HELL do people move with children in tow? It's a wonder they don't get packed along with everything else... There's a certain frenzy that arises at the end of the move... You've done all your strategizing and planning-- everything in its tidy little box, loaded into the truck in just the right order (or close to...) and the house is pretty much emptied of everything you should be bringing, and then you have to deal with the weird (aka useless) odds and ends that remain. It's all junk and you should probably just throw it away, but by that point, you're no longer capable of making clear or decisive choices, so you throw it all into a box marked "stuff" and you probably move it into your attic and never open it again. It's at that point that children can unwittingly get packed and loaded into the moving truck-- when you're blind with urgency and too tired to notice. Later you'll say, "Wait a minute... Something's amiss..." and realize that you've boxed up your children without batting an eye. Luckily, Jules was off playing with John's mom, so he dodged that bullet!
Tomorrow morning I'll try to get some photos of the farm up for you to see-- it's starting to shape up finally-- and we're whipping through the boxes, one at a time...
I keep telling myself, "Patience. Patience." As they say, Rome wasn't built in a day.
Gulp.
