So we have told our realtor that she can walk through our house on Wednesday.
That sentence causes my chest to tighten.
We have done some landscaping in our front yard.
We have hauled out several pickup loads full of stuff.
Our house does not look any less full.
Right now, it sounds like a dandy idea to tell her that we need a month. Or three.
We have to empty rooms in order to paint.
We have to paint. No option.
And now Olivia is crying. Dissolved on the floor. And I am not sure I care why. She needs to go to bed.
I need to go to bed. Barring that, I need to do some laundry.
Maybe I should dissolve on the floor crying. But I am pretty sure no one would care why.
Labels: moving
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I bet it's really stressful. I know it's hard enough for me to go back and forth to Conway every nine months.