Moving Stinks!

I’ll begin with a bit of the backstory (and I’ll try to keep it relatively brief) ... this whole moving thing kind of happened rather quickly. Like ... crossing the street, minding your business and a huge garbage truck comes barreling around the corner and slams into you before you have a chance to react ... quickly. To be fair, the hubs’ job hunt has been going on for a while, but in his business, you’re really at the mercy of timing. It’s all in what positions happen to be available at the time you happen to be out of contract. Not to mention, the whole decision-making/hiring process can be somewhat timely. So when all was said and done and the ink on his new contract was drying, we had less than a month to take care of all of the arrangements necessary in a move across several states.

Needless to say, we had to move very quickly. The hubs’ new company graciously sponsored a HOU à ATL trip for us to go house hunting and get a bit of a feel for the city. What’s crazy is that right around the time the interview process started, I happened upon a Facebook status update that a good friend of mine that I’ve known since middle school posted about his rental home becoming available in the early summer. I wrote to him explaining the situation, and we corresponded a bit about the details of the house. The hubs and I loved the look of the house from the pics that my buddy sent me, and the location was a perfect five miles from the hubs’ new gig, so it was the definite frontrunner on the list. Well, when we got to ATL, we checked the house out for ourselves and we absolutely loved it. It’s the perfect little rental house for a young couple that’s new to the city and wants to explore all of the options before buying a home locally (especially a young couple that has already owned and sold one house, and still owns a condo (aka Money Pit) in Florida)! It’s in an adorable new neighborhood in NW Midtown, and it was exactly what we were looking for. Done! Cross that off the to-do list.

Once we got back to Houston, the last half of July came and went in a whirlwind of “lasts”-- my last couple weeks at a job that I loved, the last time we could ever eat a cheese and basil pizza from Collina’s Pizza, or get real Mexican food from Lupe Tortilla; the last time I would go to happy hour with the girls from work; the last time I could have a secret sushi date with my wonderful little clique of friends ... unfortunately, I got so caught up in all of my lasts, I didn’t leave myself very much time to pack.

Did I mention that I’m in school?

Yeah ... apparently, my teachers didn’t feel the need to leave me time to pack, either. I know what you’re thinking. How rude, right?! That’s what I said. We’re working through it. Anyway, in typical B form, I waited until the very last week/day/moment to do what seemed like everything. Well, not everything. I packed the bathroom up with at least two weeks to spare. Whatever. Don’t judge.

...but miraculously, we got it all done. After a long, miserable, never-ending night of haphazardly shoving last-minute objects of randomosity (I’m secretly convinced that my husband and I are low-key hoarders. I think the fact that nobody has caught onto it yet just means that we’re really, really, really good at it.) into carelessly stuffed boxes, we taped up the last box ... and that, as they say, was that.

Adios, Houston. You’ll be missed. I know we were just getting to know each other and that we’d only just gotten over that awkward “getting to know you” stage and were really starting to enjoy each other’s company, but c’est la vie. It’s not you; it’s me. This is just something I have to do, you know? There will be other girls. I can’t promise there will be another me, but you’ll survive. I’m on to bigger and [hopefully] better things now...