Moving Day

I'll skip the packing day... for all of our own good. It involved far too many cuss words and angry glances that I would be comfortable posting here. Let's just get to the fun of actual moving, shall we? Dustin and I woke up, from sleeping on our floor where the kitchen table had once been, around 6 a.m. He went to get us coffee one last time from our favorite spot while I drugged our 6 year old cat for the trip. By the time he got back, Y'all was cross-eyed from the drugs and I was sweaty from the effort. We packed up the little bits and pieces that hadn't fit in the U-Haul the night before and got on the road. I was less tearful than I had anticipated. I was really relieved. We both were ready to get out of San Diego and into our first home. I had loved it for the year and a half that I had been there but it never did feel like home to me. I loved the surfing and the beach (just 2 blocks from our rented duplex). I loved the consistent weather. I loved the vacation vibe. Maybe I just didn't like ME there? Who knows? But it felt right to go. So go we did. We were on the road, Y'all in here carrier between us in the U-Haul cab, traffic whizzing by. Dustin cussing. Me ignoring and trying to be optimistic. Slurpee anyone? Snap in to a Slim Jim, D! Life is good! Promise.