An oxymoron? I don’t think so, not in this case. You see, most people don’t have a Robert to help them pack and move. Most people don’t have the luxury of continuing their daily routine, complete with work-related stress headaches and freaky company meetings, while their significant other is busily packing up their apartment and trying to keep things moving smoothly so they don't have a complete nervous breakdown
This morning was the final walk through.
This afternoon I expect to receive the final numbers from the mortgage broker, but so far nothing. None of this is real in my mind until I see the numbers in black and white and see that this whole thing is actually feasible. Right now it’s all this abstract idea: somehow, that beautiful, new-smelling, shiny house that I’ve watched go from a blank frame through completion is going to be mine in less than 48 hours. Um. Yeah, right. My stuff is really going to be in it. This time next week, I will be driving to work from a new direction. Everything will be…new.
But first, the numbers.
In the meantime, Robert has been packing the apartment gradually while I’m at work, when he’s not in class or working. And he’s doing a bang-up job. The entire spare room, including the gigantor closet with boxes from my LAST move almost two years ago. The kitchen. Ahh, the kitchen. How I despise packing (and unpacking) kitchens. I did not know he packed the kitchen until last night, since I didn’t really go in there all weekend except to get ice cream. (what? I’m STRESSED, people). So last night, after an exhausting weekend of tying up loose ends before the move and trying not to spend any real money (except for paying the balance on our June cruise. uh, yeah, that), it was time to eat dinner. We were both spent and not in the mood to even go pick food up anywhere, so Robert heated up some soup we had in the fridge. And all was sweet and well and domestic-like. Until he went to serve it, and realized he had Packed. The. Bowls. All. of. Them. Aha, I said, that’s what you get for packing more than a day ahead of time, Mr. Smarty Pants!
We had a good laugh. And then we ate delicious soup out of a giant casserole dish.