I would now like to rant a little about moving.
I hate it.
But you say, "Morgan, who DOESN'T hate moving?"
I don't know, but that doesn't negate my hating of it. It's AWFUL. I detest packing boxes, I detest deciding to keep or throw away. Do we keep the dishes? Freecycle them??? ARG!
Trying to convince my two-year-old that he CAN NOT bring his best friend Everhett with us is heartbreaking and extremely frustrating. "NO MOMMY! Everhett come to New Vegas with me!" I don't care for that.
Having my husband be there and me here is not cool. He's working and I'm here, packing boxes and trying to keep Henry from climbing on the stacks of boxes. Deciding what I can live without for the next 15 days... ARG.
But, the number one most detestable, horrific experiences about moving is FINDING A PLACE TO LIVE. It is DISGUSTING how much houses cost, and we're not buying so we're limited to rentals. Throw in an "Academic Intern"'s salary and we're even more limited. Super. So, we are being forced into a 2 bedroom APARTMENT. GAG! I'm very very irritated.
So, Derek is out driving around Las Vegas telling me if the apartments are scary, if the neighbors are scary, if there are drivebys happening in front of him, drug-deals out in the open???? I just don't like it, not one little bit.
So, there. I have packed 68 boxes. The office is all that is left. I hate the office. We will have no office in Las Vegas. Sigh. I'm avoiding it.
I'm almost out of boxes. I need to go raid some stores again, which is SUPER fun with two kids.
See? I have done nothing but rant this entire post. So, I shall leave you with new kiddo-isms.
Henry: Mommy, I love you. You're THE BEST!
Me: No, YOU'RE the best.
Henry: NO! YOU'RE THE BEST!
If I ask Spencer if he wants to take a bath, he starts yanking on his clothes, trying to get naked. He LOVES baths.
Okay, rant over.