We are moving. Again. Didn't we just do this? When we arrived a few weeks ago, we moved into a friend's house in Winchester to be near my mom. It's a great big house, five bedrooms, gigantic, plenty of room. My friend lives a few miles down the road, but still has her office and her kitties here and we both figured it would work for the few months we'd be here.

But -- you'd better sit down -- not only is there 56 years worth of her stuff here, but all her mom's stuff, her kids' stuff, the previous owners' stuff (my friend bought the house 23 years ago) and the previous owners' parents' stuff (they died in the house) and their parents' stuff (they died in the house, too). Small town in the south, this is how it goes. John, the previous owner, comes to visit now and then. He's 87, still drives a pickup. A very nice man who does not want his stuff back.

So, the house, the barn and the other three outbuildings are all chock a block full of stuff. Really interesting old, old stuff: wool hooked rugs, dressers galore, gigantic old armoires stuffed full of silver trays and tea-sets, lace doilies, old bookshelves filled with old books, artwork, all manner of dolls (some kinda creepy), framed pictures, old mahogany chairs, Persian rugs mixed with home depot rugs, brass candle holders everywhere, more crafted goo-gahs then I'll bet most of you have ever seen in your lifetime, let alone in one building. I'm in stuff heaven.

Only there's no place to put my stuff. Literally. We are living out of our suitcases still. The beds are super comfortable, indoor plumbing, beautiful location, plenty of furniture (all filled with stuff), a good cozy farm kitchen, but no clear space to put a toothbrush. We need our own place, and my friend misses her house. So, now that mom is in Lexington with all my brothers, my sister and the nephews, well, we're moving to Lexington.

I used to like moving. I don't anymore. We looked at houses all day today. We will look at more houses in more days. We found one we liked, but nothing written in stone, as yet. I know we'll find something. I just want to find it soon. I don't mind the actual moving of clothes from one place to another or having to buy furniture (we figure 3 mattresses, 4 lazyboys, we're good). I just don't want to wonder where: I want to find the house, move into it and get on with it. I'm starting not to care if it only has one bathroom. Yeah, desperate.

So that's where I be: stressing about moving. And we found an unopened bag of Costa Rican coffee... I mean, we couldn't let it go to waste, could we? And coffee is good for stress, right? The bag is almost empty, like me, then back to tea. I'm looking forward to it, actually. Don't send me any coffee for Christmas. Unless you can't think of anything else.

Since we don't have cable (yay), I'm going to Hulu.com and watch propaganda TV. I don't even care what's on. Good thing there is no junk food in this house or I'd be havin' me some. Maybe I'll just take a deep breath instead. [Deep breath.] Ok, that really is good stuff, that air. Now: Family Guy two episodes of Glee! Ahhhh.

Sally's Real Life

Moving Hell II

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