A Next Adventure

 We've all heard the semi-quoted statistics... "they say moving is more stressful than [insert traumatic life event]".  We have a contract on our old house which calls for a move date 4 weeks away, but the new house owners push that date for everyone out 2 more weeks. I start getting quotes from movers, because asking a bunch of older lady friends to help us move is, well, not going to happen.  Quite frankly, I am relieved we have aged out of the days of calling in huge favors from friends with strong backs and non-replaced joints.  I find a mover that's much cheaper than most and cement in the date by slapping down money.  Trent didn't want to pay the extra so we opt to pack ourselves.   I made my first purchase of boxes and tape at U-Haul.  Yes, this statement needs its own paragraph. You consider your house that first time in U-Haul and estimate how many boxes you need. Our house is relatively tidy, as I've made it my life goal not to keep tcho...

Eighteen years ago I moved into a total fixer-upper.  But it was calling to me, its song spreading dreams in my head of DIY Bliss and a perfect end result.  You can substitute bliss for bloody thumbs, tears (oh the tears!) and, once I got married, differing opinions over methodology. But yes in the end the house was perfect, at least to me.   Fast forward to 2023 and my mind is listening to random siren calls for change. Our road has become a nuisance with high speed frequent traffic.  This is accentuated by a blind rise out front and every Yahoo drawn to it for the thrill of going fast enough to get air akin to a Dukes of Hazard episode. We are subjected to these road noises at all hours of the day and night, and our dog Walter (never one to stand up to fear) can often be found hiding under the bed with his teeth audibly chattering.  And so in June, when Trent is worn down by my multiple "reminders" that I'd like to move, he agrees to start looking at...