Yeah; I know I haven’t posted for well over a fortnight but I’m in the middle of painting/moving into a new house, a big six blocks away from my old one. I’m also trying to sell my old house at the same time, so you can bet I’m a very pleasant person to be around. If one more person tells me just how hot the real estate market is in Portland, Oregon, I assure you I am going to give them the severest glare I can muster over the top of my glasses (I’d love to say I’d beat the crap out of them, but hey–it’s me we’re talking about).
But as in most pain-the-the-ass things in life, I have learned quite a bit in the process of moving. I’ve learned
- The depths of my husband’s hoarding, especially when it comes to food. The
Mormons have nothing on us. Then again, he’s not the one insisting on buying rice in 50-lb. bags.
- I have no short-term memory. About 10-20% is a duplicate of something I own already, particularly books.
- About the vast graveyard of hobbies past that lies in my basement. Thank god I never developed an interest in welding.
- I was a much thinner person in a previous life.
I hope to be done by the first of June; in the meantime, if anyone is interested in an adorable bungalow in a yuppie neighborhood (it grew up around me–I swear), let me know.
The movie that most represents my life right this very minute: The Money Pit