So the 1st of September happened yesterday. In case you didn’t notice.
I almost didn’t, but when I did realise what day it was, I got a massive fright. I have been simultaneously looking forward to and dreading this month for the last while, or actually since I realised that we were actually going to move. And now it’s here. It crept up on me while I was busy procrastinating and wishing it away.
We move in 28 days time. I have only packed 23 boxes. And if you had to look at my house right now, (and didn’t notice the huge pile of boxes in the corner of the lounge), you would think that I hadn’t packed anything. I think that this scares me the most. Not really that it implies that I have a crap load more packing to do, but rather that we can have 23 boxes worth of stuff totally inaccessible and we don’t really notice that it’s missing. Except the wine glasses. How I thought I could pack this and think that I wouldn’t need it is still a mystery to me.
In 19 days time it will mark Seth and my 10 year anniversary. That’s huge in and of itself.
As if that’s not bad enough, it’s Knox’s first birthday in just 23 days time too. He deserves a party, but we can’t give him one close to his day (because I’m sure we will be frantically packing like demons), which just sucks. Not that he’ll notice though. Anyway, I don’t mind a fair amount of stress, but planning a party AND moving just seems like I might hate myself for it. Plus it’s also my birthday on Knox’s birthday. Or his on mine, not sure which way you’re supposed to say it. And so I don’t really want to be spending our day stressing more than I need to.
Last year I spent my birthday in labour. But this year I am a lot more concious about what’s happening, and well… I don’t think that much is going to happen. But that’s OK, because we’ll be on our way to big, better things.
How are things over in your neck of the woods?