Greetings.
I write to you from my bed, where I am propped up waiting for the Advil to kick in and make me once again able to move without agony after a weekend of packing boxes. You would think that after the first round of this, I would figure out some kind of technique that does not involve quite so much bending and lifting, but alas, I do not learn from my stupid, stupid mistakes, and so I will be hobbling to work tomorrow.
I am mostly writing to ask for your patience in the next few weeks, as blog entries will probably be few and far between. I'm not saying that I won't post at all, just that things are going to be a little crazy for a while. Here's what I mean: In the next 21 days, I will get on a plane and go out of town for four days, Dan and I will celebrate our official three-year wedding anniversary, Dan and I will close on our house, Dan will get on a plane and go out of town for five days, I will start moving carloads of small things into the house at night after work while he's gone, and the day after he gets back, a bunch of very nice people from our church will come and help us move all the furniture into our brand new house. Then, we will begin the process of unpacking the boxes and trying to decipher the incoherent code words I have scrawled on the side of the aforementioned boxes in a futile effort to make the process simpler. All of this will be accomplished while we hold down full-time jobs! If there were cameras, this would make a great reality show. Who will crack first under pressure? Who will get packing-taped to the wall by an irritable spouse? Who will show up to work with Sharpie marks on their face? And who will survive to win the big prize: A three-bedroom, two-bath house on the West Side. Find out on tonight's installment of "First Time Homeowners!"
But seriously, if you feel alone and abandoned in this space in the coming weeks, hang on, because we really will be back.