Okay, okay.  I KNOW.  I’ve been terrible about updating this blog after the last one.

The good news:  The mortgage went through!  We got the house!!!

The bad news:  Moving.  Moving.  And more moving.

When I was young, “autograph books” were a thing.  A pretty big thing.  And they didn’t have to be autographs from anyone famous — friends/family would sign, too.  I think I was in about fourth grade when I got mine and when my mom signed, she wrote:  “To Jenny Lou, My number one smiler, jumper [cheerleading!], and procrastinator.  I love you, Mom”  I remember literally getting out the dictionary to look up “procrastinator” (I’ve been a nerd for a long, long time) and realized that my mom really “got” me.  It’s true.  I procrastinate.  I like to think of it as “working well under pressure”.

HOWEVER …. this time I really haven’t!  I started purging as soon as I started looking at houses.  And I’ve purged A LOT.  I have a garage half-filled with all the things we’re giving away.  [This chick does NOT do garage sales.  Sure, I could get fifty cents for my sofa.  Not worth it!]  But even with all my pre-work, *sigh*.

The movers come in two days.  In the meantime, I have made numerous trips to the new places, stuffing my sister’s minivan with boxes, bags, and containers of every sort.  MY STUFF KEEPS MULTIPLYING, PEOPLE.  I’m serious.  I don’t know how it’s happening, but there’s just more.  Everywhere I look, there’s more.  Think you got the kitchen cleaned out, Jen?  HA!  Don’t forget the entire pantry and the fridge!  Think the basement is finished?  Think again!  Get all your laundry supplies and the Christmas tree!  The bathrooms are done?  No way!  Medicine cabinet, sucker!

I honestly just asked Siri, “Who was the dude that pushed the stone up the hill?” because I’m so brain-dead at this point that I couldn’t remember the name Sisyphus.  God Bless, Siri.  She also “gets” me.

I also honestly just had a breakfast of Excedrin Migraine, Prilosec, and Pellegrino.  In the old days, it would’ve just been Motrin and Mountain Dew, but I’m a homeowner, now!  Fancy Pants!

So it’s 8:17 in the a.m., and I’m sitting on my couch in my bathrobe contemplating just burning the rest of our stuff in a massive, stunning bonfire.  Out with the old!  In with the new!  ‘Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished.  Only I can’t do that because, you know, I now have no money.  Because, you know, homeowner.  But wouldn’t it be loverly?!

And so another day of pushing that damned stone up the mountain begins.  Wish me luck.  If you really loved me, you’d help me push, but even I’m not that adorable!  Which, frankly, really makes clear just how much moving really sucks, because I’m pretty darn cute.