T-Minus three weeks. Well, here goes nothing…Or everything depending on where you’re sitting. THREE WEEKS… OMG THREE WEEKS PEOPLE!
The living room is chaos central. Half the stuff is for the yard sale, the other half is precious treasure. I’m the only one who knows the difference… bwahahaha!
There are twelve curling/flat irons in that basket, much to my embarrassment. I went through the bathroom this morning and HOLY HELL I HAVE A HAIR PROBLEM! Intervention, anyone? I’m keeping five, getting rid of a dozen. I need help… And Virginia is going to take me to the woodshed on thinking I have any control anyway. Or so says EVERYONE. Sigh.
My fingers hurt. The entire weekend, the kids and I have spent sorting their Lego. We have Lego EVERYWHERE and my kids were grounded from all electronics until they went forth and gathered, sorted, culled and chipped teeth trying to get all bricks segregated into the proper bins. Then I will duct tape the bins closed, knowing the sorted perfection is illusory, but oh so satisfying:
So so pretty… NO YOU CANNOT PLAY LEGO BEAN! DONT EVEN ASK!They’re in quarantine now until we get to Virginia. Yes, I’m the meanest mother in the world. You’ll get over it.
Jeffrey is now enjoying an electronic break after the two solid days of Lego torture.
Unclear yet if I can fit the lovely custom-made island counter behind Jeffrey in the moving truck, or if I have to find it a new home. It’s one of my single favorite pieces, and I really want to bring it- but it’s huge, heavy and custom. Will it fit in the townhouse? Will it be an albatross? Must I let go of all remnants? Time will tell.
The staging, wavering and sorting continues. The cake stands are already culled and decided- and despite what appears to be 100’s of cookie cutters in that bin, it’s the distillation of my favorites, and the rest are in the yard sale pile. Because every gluten-free mama needs 100 cookie cutters. Right? RIGHT.