What is it about moving that makes you want to just curl in a ball and wish it was over? I have moved a lot, and it will take Jesus standing in front of me to make me do it again! And that's not blasphemous, I'm just done moving unless it's Him telling me to do it. I doubt I'm the only one to ever think that before.
We have a little left at the old house, and we hope to clean it out when it's not hot as Hades. It's supposed to be in the 100s today and the first sign of anything below 90 is next week. I bet I don't have to tell you how much worse it is to move when it's blazing hot outside.
I know I'm griping, so here's some thankfulness. I'm grateful that I can move. The space is amazing. I don't feel like a sardine, I love my new street. There are people on it that I know. I love the roses out front -- I have a row of five in all different colors and I wish you had smellavision because they are so fragrant. I love them. I've never had roses so pretty.
And, so far, my family has had dinner at the table every night since we moved the table in. I love that too. It doesn't feel like chaos when its dinner time. We've even played games after dinner. We've begun to establish new habits: ones that are good for us and our girls. I'm grateful for that. So, even though the moving part isn't so great, the result is amazing.
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