The longer you spread out moving, the more horrible it is.
It’s not like there’s some set amount of horrible that you can compact or draw out. No. The longer it takes, the worse it is, even if your mother-in-law, bucking for sainthood, is paying for three days in a hotel because the new landlords jerked you around about move-in day and your air mattress is Mostly Dead.
We are VERY fortunate to have so many helpful friends—helping us pack our moving pod, letting us store a pile of last-minute stuff that didn’t make it into the pod but had to leave the old place so Don could clean, helping us get that last-minute stuff to the home of the people letting us store it…
Ask me later about the two versions of our new address, Google, and zip codes. Maybe by then it will seem funny.
Also: fruit juice really does unconstipate babies. Thank god.
