Dudes. We are moved.
Completely, totally, everything important is unpacked, and things are hung on the walls moved. Matt still has some memorabilia I couldn’t be trusted with, and we can’t technically find the Netflix DVD we had out when we moved, but eh, I would probably want to buy Amazing Grace to watch Benedict Cumberbatch over and over again.
WE’RE FINISHED. AND IT IS GLORIOUS. I’m planning on being one of those obnoxious bloggers who post house tours over the next couple of weeks, because I did a bunch of cool stuff in this house that I’m ridiculously in love with, and house bloggers bug me a little bit less than mommy bloggers, so I’m going to hitch my horse to that wagon.
(And by “I did a bunch of cool stuff I mean my mom had a bunch of ideas and when I said, “Oh, that’s awesome? But how will I get it/build it/put it together?” She responded “Your dad will have it here tomorrow!”)
(Young House Love shoutout. LOVE IT.)
In the meantime (while I’m over here hyperventilating over having to sell my other house), have a post about moving, as told by iPhone photos. Or, the only thing I could find until a few days ago.
The whole time we lived at the new house (or at least as long as I had lived there), we talked about having drinks on the patio. It seemed so idyllic and adorable and relaxing and I just couldn’t imagine anything more awesome. Except. We never actually did it, we just talked about it.
Until the last night. I demanded that we have drinks on the patio once before we move.
And then the mosquitoes started attacking and we realized why we didn’t ever really have drinks on the patio before.
The next morning I was quite excited (and exhausted) (and stressed).
Buddy was less excited that he was being corralled by various grandmothers in attempt to keep him alive.
The movers showed up-
Squeaks’ response was “Those are the strongest men I’ve ever seen!”
I got tired thinking about moving Matt’s desk to vacuum. They carried it up the stairs without, like, thinking about it.
They got to our new house, unloaded everything, and I spent the rest of the day unpacked, putting away, and rolling around naked in ALL OF MY STUFF IN MY NEW HOME LET ME SHOW YOU IT.
(My parents were over.)
My sister made us a cake with house on it, because she’s awesome like that.
And then my dad played peek-a-boo with him and moved all my patio furniture around.
ANYWAY. Now we’re in the new house and freed up to do lots of awesome things like have drinks! On the patio! For real!
(Happiness apparently an alternative to makeup.)
And entertain in my awesome dining room!
And garden in my not-garden!
(And by that I mean get my brother to do most of the work and then transplant some flowers.)
And have lovely Saturday mornings with my coffee and Facebook while my kids play on the swing set!
And take my son to the emergency room because he can’t be trusted on changing tables for 1//8th of a second apparently!
(Thus bringing the number of times I’ve stood in this living room with paramedics to TOO DAMN MANY.)
(Also, happiest ER baby ever, amiright?)
The only problem with the house has been lodged by Buddy. I won’t let him play out in the road with the trash collector trucks, even though they’re really cool.
I know. I’m pretty mean.