Marco . . . Polo

Well, we are here in the new house. The moving van arrived bright and early Saturday morning with all of our stuff. Benny, the supervisor, cocked an eyebrow at me and said, "All of the stuff in that truck is supposed to fit in that house?" "Yep, " I confidently replied.

For the past week we have been maneuvering around the maze of boxes in our home. My DH continually says, "We've got a lot of stuff." Okay, he uses a much more derogatory term. I actually thought with a smaller, one-story house we would be able to find each other easier, but I have already lost him twice and CC lost me three times just today.

The unpackers came on Tuesday. Now instead of piles of boxes, I just have piles of stuff everywhere. I am finding many things that we were keeping just because we had the room for it.

It's slowly coming together. Boy, do I have a hard time stopping at night and going to bed, though. Once I get going, I just want to keep plugging away until the entire room I'm working in is liveable. But, alas, I must stop to make ravioli for B, to find a Barbie band-aid for CC, and some sleep for myself (my DH is on his own right now).

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