The Random Shit They Left Us

Good morning blog friends! Brian and I spent the weekend painting with my second mother (my mom’s best friend who just taught me how to paint a room). She and I also made our way downtown to a very depressing Bears game. And then back for more painting.

This is my backyard. Before it was my backyard. But it's pretty, right?

This is my backyard. Before it was my backyard. But it’s pretty, right?

So as I’m writing this (Sunday night), I’m covered in paint, in dire need of a shower (don’t ask how long it’s been), and beat to hell (is it nap time yet?).

But I really wanted to share this little gem of a story with you. Because I think it’s amusing.

The sellers of our house left us lots of helpful things to get started with our first homeownership adventure. I know that they were thinking of us when they left these things, because they sent a message through the attorneys asking if we wanted them to leave paint and extra fixture-type thingies. (Someone please tell me why EVERYTHING has to go through attorneys and real estate agents instead of just people to people? Because the games of Telephone that we had to play in this whole house-buying process was a giant pain in the ass.) We said “sure.”

Not that we wanted the extra paint in the rooms we would be painting over as soon as possible. But you never know.

So they left cans of paint and stain for the cedar siding. They left light bulbs and extra sticky tiles from the 80’s/90’s. They left bubble wrap and packing boxes. They left a bunch of normal, helpful stuff.
And then they left a whole bunch of random.

Like the brand new, unused skylight flashing dated back to 2004, which would have been PRETTY useful under the skylight that we have to get fixed because it has no flashing and was instead sealed with roofing tar and leaked into our attic/master bathroom (before we bought the house-we knew about it…no money pit here, yet). You know…useful stuff.

Even the curtains, while not really my style at all, are helpful...even if they are getting replaced asap. (By the way, feel free to note the paint color. Next to it is a blue family room and what was a salmon kitchen. Hence the weekend painting.)

Even the curtains, while not really my style at all, are helpful…even if they are getting replaced asap. (By the way, feel free to note the paint color. Next to it is a blue family room and what was a salmon kitchen. Hence the weekend painting.)

Or the insulation paper, which conveniently made the perfect tarp for painting.

painting tarp?

Or the strange yarn/belt/beady thing that I have no idea what it is.

It's like 5 feet long.

It’s like 5 feet long.

Or the magical mystery Ocen Spray cranberry juice bottle filled with some creepy, unlabeled brown liquid.

Juice? Maaaybe not.

Juice? Maaaybe not.

Which I assume is some sort of stain due to the close proximity of other stains and paint.
Paint and things
Which is mostly strange because they labeled fucking everything else. (This was one of Brian’s favorite features of the house. Labeled duct work.)

They also left the piece de resistance next to the bubble wrap in the basement…
Bubble wrap
Can you spot it?
Tighty Whities
Don’t worry, I took a close up. Of the tighty whities. Which I can only assume/hope are clean and were used as a cleaning rag of some sort. Brian and I are fighting over who has to remove them from the basement. I feel like they’re going to stay forever with the current standstill…

Of course, as people move out, they choose to take things with them.

Our sellers took the avocado green clothes dryer (and the washer) – we knew they were taking those. And the shower curtain rod. And the canned goods from the bathroom closet.
Canned goods in the bathroom
And the confederate flag.

I'm not upset that they took that with them. And they did a bangup awesome job of cleaning things up down there. So I'm not complaining. Just musing.

I’m not upset that they took that with them. And they did a bangup awesome job of cleaning things up down there. So I’m not complaining. Just musing.

Blog Friends, have you moved into a new place to discover strange things left behind? What’s the weirdest thing you’ve seen in a house? Have you left strange things behind? Would you do it just to be funny?

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

‘Twas the Night Before We Bought Our House…

Blog friends! We bought a house! I wrote you a little poem! Okay, I’m going to stop using exclamation points now. The night before we closed on our house, Brian’s dad thought it would be the perfect opportunity to watch The Amityville Horror. I know. I KNOW. Not the best idea. So I thought I’d write you a little poem about it. I never claimed to be a poet, but here’s what I came up with.

The night before we closed on our house, we made some poor choices and watched Amityville Horror

‘Twas the night before closing, and all through my brain
Not a thought was unnerving; I wasn’t going insane;
Appointments were made for paint and repair,
In hopes that our house would get some tender loving care;
I was perfectly nestled all snug on the couch;
While visions of Christmas danced in my thoughts;
When Brian was working, his dad with the remote,
Had just chosen a movie for us to enjoy,
When on the TV, there arose such a fright,
I curled even deeper; I wished it weren’t night.
A couple was purchasing a beautiful home,
That soon would be full of terrors and ghosts.
Shirtless Ryan Reynolds couldn’t improve,
The terrifying show that was supposed to amuse,
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But Brian to help assuage my great fear,
With snuggles from Brian and a laugh from his dad,
I knew that this movie wasn’t half bad.
More wicked visions and evil house sights,
And the couple that moved there was trying to fight.
The movie it ended; they all got away,
Their stuff left in the house, but they couldn’t stay
The credits, they rolled in the dark family room
And bedtime had come; it came much too soon
I slept with the lights on; how could I not?
My mind was now panicked and worried with wrought;
What if our house would be trying to kill us?
Just then, in a moment I was falling asleep
The room was quite quiet, ’til Bri started to creep.
As he crawled into bed, he made barely a sound,
I made him make promises just in case we found
Our house to be possessed and he’d try to kill me,
I said, “Brian don’t hack my body up with an axe;”
He responded not to worry, he didn’t have an axe,
And he looked a little wicked with a gleam in his eye.
“I’d have to use a mop or a broom til you die”
“Well, Brian I don’t think that’s what I meant”
He looked at me, laughing, “Don’t circumvent.
It’s not me that will kill you, the house wants you dead;”
I said, “Brian, those aren’t thoughts I want in my head,”
And he turned out the light and snuggled me close;
I said, “Don’t just ignore me – it’s scary, you know?”
He laughed at my worry and patted my cheek.
And promised to keep me safe from the freaks,
And I laughed when he said this, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, and I went to sleep,
And dreamed all the dreams of life in our keep,
I know that we’ll have a wonderful life,
And maybe one day he’ll even make me his wife;
We woke up the next morning ready to start,
The first day of homeownership – now the hard part.
As we pulled up to the house our agent was waiting—
The house is now ours – we’re cohabitating.

So anyways, with this milestone that is buying a freaking house, we prepared (poorly) by watching The Amityville Horror. Ryan Reynolds really was shirtless most of the movie. I really did go to sleep with the lights on. Brian really did promise to kill me with a mop or a broom because he didn’t have an axe. And we really are homeowners now.

As I was telling my mom about our movie night the next day (mere hours after we bought the house), she told me that it was a true story.

Wait, what? I’m sleeping with the lights on forever.

So I went to Netflix to see what they had for me. I figure we might as well continue down this haunted house rabbit hole (you know, considering we’re moving during peak Halloween season) and stream a few other Amityville Horror movies…just for funsies.

Amityville Horror

Oh look! There’s a 45 minute feature on the true story of Amityville. Yep. Totally going to watch it.

Blog Friends, do you enjoy scary movies? Do they freak you out? Have you ever watched the wrong scary movie at the wrong time? Have you purchased a home? What was it like for you?

I’m part of the Netflix Stream Team and was recently given a complimentary subscription to Netflix in order to share my experiences. Though I currently have complimentary service, I’ve been a Netflix subscriber for years and wouldn’t have it any other way.

StreamTeamBadge

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

A Closet Full of Clothes…But Where Are Brian’s Clothes?

As my closet fills with fall clothes, I started thinking about my wardrobe vs. Brian’s wardrobe. When we moved into Brian’s dad’s house, putting most of our stuff into a gigantic storage unit, I had to pack up Rubbermaid tub on top of Rubbermaid tub full of clothes that I wouldn’t see again for another several months. I miss my clothes. Right now, I’m especially missing my Chicago Bears gear. All my t-shirts, hoodies and sweatpants. And sweaters. It’s getting a bit chilly out there. I’m definitely missing my sweaters.

How Should You Share the Closet Space?

The closet pictured was our Downers Grove apartment when we first moved in. I had NOT moved all my clothes in yet. Brian had. You can see the separation. Eventually, I took over this entire closet, plus some of the other closet. And Brian took that small portion of the other closet for his seven shirts.

Right now, my wardrobe dominates the small closet that Brian and I are currently sharing (it’s about half the size of our Downers Grove apartment closet). We’ve been in this situation before…sharing a small closet in which I only have a small portion of my clothes on display…For the first year and a half of our relationship, before we moved into our first apartment together, we didn’t technically live together. I just never went home. And we shared Brian’s tiny closet. Well…I shared his closet with him. It was slam-packed with my clothes, leaving just a tiny few inches of space on the hanging bar for Brian’s clothes.

Luckily, Brian only has about 5  fashionable designer dress shirts (which I happened to have purchased for him, because that’s what girlfriends do, right?) and maybe 3-4 other hanging articles of clothing hiding in the back of the closet, and the rest of his clothes can be folded in a dresser (or a laundry basket if we’re stretched for space, which we are). He didn’t have to pack any clothes in storage tubs. All of his clothes are hanging out in our room. But if you were to look at our closet, you’d see a whole lot of lady clothes and not a whole lot of Brian clothes.

Where am I going with this? Oh. Right. Closets full of clothes and space.

Hypothetically speaking…if we were to, say…move into a new house…and that hypothetical house were to have a deliciously sized hypothetical walk-in closet…and Chrissy were to be reunited with all her clothes (and they were to meet all the new clothes Chrissy purchased in their stead), how much of that walk-in closet would be used for Brian’s clothes, and how much of that walk-in closet would be for Chrissy’s clothes?

I mean…this isn’t a debate or anything. It’s a very serious question about very serious clothing and a very serious [hypothetical] closet.

And I’m asking for a friend.

Because that girl’s boyfriend may or may not have hypothetically told her that 50% of that hypothetical, magical-unicorn-of-a-closet would hypothetically belong to him.

What are your thoughts? Do you think the closet should be a 50/50 split regardless of the number of hangers on each side?

This post was sponsored on behalf of Sir Men’s Wear. I was compensated for my time, but this is still my story and I’m sticking to it.

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

How to Make House Hunting Less Like Dating

For the last couple of months, instead of estate sailing and garage sailing for vintage board games, Brian and I have been adventuring out with our realtor (who is hilarious and awesome), but you knew that already. Because we almost bought a house. And then we didn’t, and we were heartbroken. It was like a bad breakup. I even ate Sbarro pizza…in CHICAGO. Home to the best pizza known to man. But I ate Sbarro. And inadvertently paused my DietBet(I didn’t gain anything, but I didn’t lose much, either.) I’m not making excuses, just telling it like it is.

Much like dating, the best way to get over one house is to jump right into the next. But that never works out. We needed something fast and easy. We went and saw 5 houses just a few days later. We compared them all to The House. The one we had just broken up with.

Now, we’re much pickier…only seeing 1 to 2 houses at a time…and we go in ready to shoot down a perfectly good house for whatever reason…because we’re afraid of losing it…or it really doesn’t hold a flame to our first.

Is this starting to sound familiar?

House hunting is COMPLETELY like dating. And then I remember how long it took me to find Brian. And I don’t want to wait 27 years to find the right house!
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So I’ve decided to make house hunting less like dating…and more like a game.

Step 1: Create a list of all the criteria that you’re looking for in a house.

Step 2: Assign point values to each feature, based on how important it is to your search.

Step 3: Create a list of the most ridiculous things you can think of and make every house visit a scavenger hunt. Note: This is a mini-game and doesn’t coubt toward win conditions.

Step 4: Visit the house. Check off items on the criteria list to find out if you have enough victory points to buy the house.

Step 5: Without snooping in places you shouldn’t be snooping (furniture pieces like dressers and desks are off limits. Would you want someone going through your things?), take note of items on your scavenger hunt list. Shelves, closets, and items that would stay if you moved in are fair game, but again, dont rifle through anything. Be considerate and think about if it was your house. Besides, people leave enough weird shit out in the open when they know someone is coming to look (remind me to tell you about that time they were showing my college apartment).

Step 6: Another mini-game. If there are pictures of the people currently living in said house, make up a story about them. Feel free to use items on the scavenger hunt as props.

Step 7: Tally up the victory points and determine if it’s your house. Do the pros out-weigh the cons? If so, it may be your house.

I hope this helps you avoid heartbreak while searching for your new home…but if it doesn’t, the mini-games will at least keep you spirits high and your sense of humor actively engaged.

Have you bought a house? Do you want to buy a house? Do you have tips for house hunting?

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

We Broke Up With Our House…Or…We Almost Bought a House

Remember two weeks ago, when I was planning all the exciting things for a house we hadn’t bought?

And last week, when I bragged about a secret?

And Tuesday when I teased about an exciting day to my Facebook followers?

And the majority of those two weeks were spent pinning home decorating images to my Pinterest board?

Last Saturday, Brian and I put a bid on a house. And within two hours of starting the paperwork, we had negotiated a deal with the sellers.

We were on cloud nine. We had a quirky amazing house. And plans.

Old bones with big additions. I was calling it my 90’s chic 90-year-old house.

Vaulted ceilings, book nooks, connected closets, walk-in closets as big as bedrooms, a gigantic jet tub in the master suite, a loft–it was insane. Great location. Near the train. Near highways. A little extravagant, perhaps, but somehow fell in our price range. We couldn’t turn it down. It called to us.

When we walked in, we knew it was our house. Just like everyone says about houses…you just know.

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Vaulted ceilings in the bedroom

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Built-in bookshelves and nooks

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Tuesday, we had our inspection. We had told ourselves that there wasn’t anything they could find that would deter us from the house.

We were wrong.

Our inspector was GOOD. I mean as a person? Not my kinda guy…a cocky dude who talked down to Brian, for sure, but he knew what he was doing. He was thorough.

His thoroughness quickly found major issues with the foundation and property grading, some current, some potential. But big.

And we can try to append the contract to factor in these major problems, but do we want to?

Brian’s stipulations had always been that he didn’t want to deal with foundations or roofs at the starting gate. I can’t blame him. It’s a lot to deal with.

So we both grieved. Which seems bizarre for a house that we’ve only known for two weeks.

We learned a lot from the inspector (about clues to look for, how to tell the age of certain appliances and fixtures, features we should recognize…it was eye-opening).

And we realized that there were other things we were willing to overlook, but we’re relieved that we won’t have to deal with (ALL old appliances, huge heating and cooling costs, a creepy basement, and unusually high taxes, among other things…)

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The creepy basement

I do know, though, that we will find a house. It just isn’t this one.

Have you bought a house before? Have you lost a house? What was your experience with the inspector? Tell me your story.

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Rest in Pieces, Delilah: A Eulogy

In honor of my dear friend of 19 years.

She was a true champion. We met the summer between 7th and 8th grade. She kept my little brother and I occupied, distracted, and entertained that first summer she arrived, when Mom was sick. She taught me about responsiblity, maintenance, and pride in a job well done. She helped me practice my flip flops in high school. She gave us a place filled with memories. Something to do early in the morning and late at night. She was the life of every party.

Although she had no name for much of our friendship, she will forever be known in my heart as Delilah. Thanks to a few beers with Dad and my little brother.

My brother sent me a picture last night as I was heading home on the train. And I knew. Delilah was a goner.

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She passed slowly, starting last night, and carrying on until morning. Now, she’s merely an empty shell in my parents’ backyard.

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I called Mom immediately to see what happened. Apparently everyone was in the pool but me. I had always joked that I wanted to be there when she exploded so, of course, my first comment was, “I can’t believe you didn’t wait for me!”

We had dozens of inside jokes, from Pool Cheese (Kraft singles, wrapped in plastic, still taste like Kraft singles-gross, even when they come from the bottom of the pool) to her name, Delilah, which Mom hated (I think it had something to do with naming inanimate objects).

My parents may get a new pool, but it’s also time to pass the torch. When I was a kid, Gram had a pool. Then, when that pool died, Mom got a pool. Now it’s my turn. House. Then pool. It’s the natural state of progression.

I made my way over to the parents’ place to say goodbye and offer my condolences to Dad, who was Delilah’s closest companion since I moved out.

For the last 5 years, Delilah had been living on borrowed time. Pool life support in the form of rusted caulk and Gorilla Glue. FIVE YEARS, you guys. I stand by Gorilla Glue for LIFE knowing that 10,000 gallons of water were held together wirh this magical glue…however unattractive it may be.

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But in the end, the pool rusted out.

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This is what the pole used to look like:

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So here’s to Delilah. You were a reliable and loyal friend. You’ll be missed.

Did you ever have a pool? Do you want one? Have you ever witnessed a large appliance or structure in your home kick the bucket?

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Confession Friday: I Have a Planning Problem

In the last several weeks, we’ve been browsing house after house after house looking for OUR house. From hundreds of houses online to dozens of showings, we’ve/I’ve spent countless hours looking for just the right house.

Several times in the last few weeks, we’ve even thought to ourselves is this our home? And truly meant it. So we plan. We plan what we would need to do to it to make it ours and often…it’s too much.

Well, we’d have to knock out that wall.

We’d want to add on an entire section to make that room fit for a grown adult and not a gnome.

We should refinish those kitchen cabinets.

We need to remodel the entire kitchen.

Why don’t we just MAKE that room part of the kitchen?

That bathroom needs a nice tub.

I veto the claustrophobic shower.

We need wood trim throughout the house.

Oh dear God! Why would they paint that beautiful trim?

The list of random suburban home planning goes on. We realized that none of those houses were our house. We need a mix of old house bones and charm wirh modern conveniences like air conditioning for hot Chicago summers and a large kitchen for all the parties I can’t wait to host.

I also plan for parties. How we would decorate for Halloween and Christmas. Because I want to host Christmas. And you already know how I feel about Halloween.

The other day, Brian tried to rein in my Christmas tree problem by telling me that we couldn’t get a new tree if we end up with vaulted ceilings…which is ridiculous because I’ve already planned for the giant ass Christmas tree I’m going to put in whatever giant ass room I can.

So I have a planning problem. Because right now, I’m sitting here with a notebook and a pen…writing a list…drawing diagrams…planning.

For a house we haven’t bought.

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

How to Make Moving as Painless as Possible…Without Killing Your Significant Other

As you probably already know…we moved. Of course, most of our stuff is trapped in a gargantuan storage unit until we have our own house to put it all in. The last month has been a stressful disarray of OCD-gone-wrong. In order to make moving easirr for you than it was for me, I recommend the following. I got it all wrong the weeks before moving…but on moving day? I nailed it.

The weeks before moving…

  1. Tell your significant other that moving day is a whole week before it actually is. To do this, you’ll have to be in charge of the movers (HIGHLY RECOMMENDED). That way, when he waits until the last minute, you still have a whole week.

  2. Throw. Everything. Away. No, seriously. Throw it all put, because then you won’t realize the movers have zero room for your crap and end up making 5+ additional trips after the big day.

  3. Hire professionals to pack your shit. I mean, pack your lady things and personal shit, but have someone else individually  wrap every piece of glassware, dishware, chatchkis etc, so you don’t feel like your significant other is standing there watching you do all the work and telling you to throw the glassware away.

On moving day…

  1. Make sure everything you’ll need immediately is in your car. The movers don’t need to deal with that shit and you won’t have to dig through their pile of boxes to find it.

  2. Forget every preconceived notion that you had about the move. Drop all expectations except that your shit will be somewhere else in a few short (or long if you don’t follow these explicit instructions) hours.

  3. Put your significant other in charge of the movers. You no longer have a chair to sit in, and they’re about to take the dresser you’ve been sitting on while Facebooking. You probably dropped and cracked your phone while trying to entertain yourself…you don’t need to watch over them. Because you followed tip number 2.

  4. Go shopping. If you did, in fact, crack your phone, you’ll probably need a new one. And new home means you need some new clothes to put in it…especially if you threw everything away.

  5. Go out to lunch. If your brother’s a bartender, visit him and tell him it’s moving day and you’ve relinquished control. He’ll be horrified…first because you left your boyfriend in charge, then when you tell him you paid for movers. He’ll get over it and tell you to have a cheeseburger.

  6. Head to the new residence just as the movers are finishing up. They’ll be able to unload your car before they  roll out.

With these easy steps, you, too can avoid the drama of moving.

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Can Someone Come Over and Pack My Shit?

Hey Blog Friends.

Sorry about, you know…my mini-disappearing act. Things are getting hectic around here…we’re moving in T minus 11 days, and the only things that are packed around here are the Christmas dishes…because It was almost April and we were still using the Christmas dishes. Because it was too cold to bring up the non-Christmas dishes from the unattached garage…and then we were going to be moving. And so it was just silly to switch out dishes that were going to get packed up in less than a few months…and I’m totally making excuses, but as it stands now, we’re using paper plates and really crappy paper bowls and sometimes eating soup out of mixing bowls or small pots. Basically we’re doing exactly what I typically call Brian out on through Instagram photos.

So maybe there are a few more things packed. Like the pot that I thought I needed the other day. And about 70% of my game collection is living at my parents’ house (which seems to both disgust my mother and impress my brother) because 1. I can’t bear to leave it all in storage without easy access, 2. You can only fit a couple of games in a single box and 3. I’m afraid of the amount of storage unit space they would take up…And there are bigger fish to fry in the storage unit.

Okay, and I’ve gone through two rounds of clothes packing. Two rounds of, I don’t think I’ll need these clothes for the duration. Two rounds of, Dear God please let us not still be there when fall comes back because I have some ridiculously cute fall clothes that I’m rolling up into storage bins. Two rounds of, I really should probably donate these pants that are 4 sizes smaller than my current pant size, but I don’t care because I really like them. 

Our weekends are filled with birthdays and weddings and anniversaries and a million other things that keep us ridiculously busy…and unpacked. And of course, even though we live in the same residence and share all the things…everything but the computer stuff, several random boxes of randomness that haven’t been unpacked since we moved here 18 months ago and his clothes seems to be mine. And Brian keeps saying that he doesn’t want to pack my stuff (as in my kitchen stuff, my bathroom stuff, my chatchkis, my art, my games, my linens, my food) because he feels he’ll inevitably do it wrong. Because packing is apparently one of my “things.” Okay, sure…I have a few OCD tendencies…I got a little crazy with TSA when they dug through my skunky Disney suitcase…okay and maybe he’s concerned that I’ll get upset or have to redo the packing…

But here we are with 8 days to pack up all our stuff and each day seems to fill up with work, gym, life, etc. So I’m going to ask nicely…

Can someone please come over and pack my shit stuff?

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Holy Crap, We’re Actually Moving.

Life update:

It’s hard to believe it’s been 18 months since we moved into our little Downers Grove apartment. Our first home together with just the two of us. The first non-college apartment I ever lived in. The first place I officially moved out of my parents’ house to live. There’s some serious nostalgia here.

But I’m excited. Because I’m pretty sure the apartment has been trying to kill me for 18 months. And because this means we’re legit looking for a house. Where we can build a secret passageway and a slide/staircase. And create the perfect quirky and unique home that is all ours forever. (I’m an optimist, kids).

Moving to a new home

Our bedroom hasn’t looked this perfect since that day we moved in. *facepalm*

Our move is scheduled for less than one month from today.  For the duration, 95% of our things are going to live in storage, and we, along with the other 5% of our crap, are going to live in Brian’s childhood home. We have a few weeks (and zero weekends) to pack up all of our things and decide what we absolutely need to keep with us and what we don’t. Obviously, I’m having a hard time with this.

But on the bright side, this adventure ends with a second move, from storage to a house.

I want to know, Blog Friends, what would you keep with you when most of your stuff has to live in a storage unit for an unknown duration of time.

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!