Right now we’re living in a chaotic household, cardboard boxes in various states of open or closed, empty or full – for a Type A person who borders on OCD tendencies, this is a recipe for disaster. And we couldn’t be happier. We’ve moved to the town we want and are thrilled.
Leaving the noise, the pollution, the traffic and the crazy place we lived in behind, we’re in love with our new home.
Our move too way longer than it should have, and was more disorganized than I had hoped for. Fortunately due to an early camping gear drop off, our first night was spent on air mattress and in sleeping bags.
The beds and everything else would be unloaded the next morning.
But we’re happy. All throughout our first day in our place Mr. Sensitive laughed and smiled, giggling and playing with his toys – I’ve never seen him so happy.
Every time Little Miss Adorable and I would leave, she’d excitedly as if we were going back to our house. The Dunk loves the backyard, a flat space perfect for pushing toy trucks around.
Friends and family have come out in force to help. Smalltown living has its benefits. The telephone is unnecessary, folks just show up when they think you’d be home, dropping by for a cup of coffee and to hang out with the kids or help with the household stuff. Lawnmowers, BBQs, and garden tools arrive unasked for. Folks who didn’t have our street address drove up and down our street looking for our vehicle and knocked on the door, offering help.
We know we’re in the right place for us. Our first morning, after sleeping a few hours on a saggy air mattress and aching from the day before, I stood in front of an open window, listening to birdsong. Quiet streets, outdoor living, small community, and small town life – exhausted and sleep-deprived, I was ecstatic.
This morning Mr. Sensitive heard crickets chirping from his bedroom window; then went outside to watch snails move across our backyard.