I’m pretty sure that ever having moved in the past is reason enough to decide to be a hoarder. Or to just accidentally end up being a hoarder. Going through your stuff, packing your stuff, trying to convince people to buy your stuff, and then actually moving your stuff sucks. It’s hard to fathom the amount of stuff you have until it’s all piled into boxes in the living room, and then tetris-ed (it’s a word now, just go with it) into a truck. Anyways, I hate moving. Since my mom moved to good ol’ Gwynn’s Island in 2005, I have moved 8 times. 8 TIMES! From the house I grew up in to dad’s new house, to the dorms, back to dad’s house, into my first apartment, into the sweet house on Cherry Street, downtown apt in Richmond, to Newport News, and now into the little room above the stairs at mom’s house. Thankfully, Jimi has participated in the last 4, so I don’t have to con people into moving the heavy stuff for me (only half kidding). We moved most of our stuff on Saturday, and have until noon on Friday to get everything out and ready for the next tenant.
Yesterday, we took Sam and Delilah to my uncle’s house (where they will hopefully live until we get home). Naturally, they don’t like the dog. She is a really sweet dog, so I’m hoping that the hatred will be temporary and the cats will realize she is a warm body, and be snuggling up with her soon. Delilah was already being brave and snooping around the house, and Sam spent most of the time hiding behind stuff and growling. Typical for cat change of territory. I leave Friday to fly to Denver to visit Chuck, and then go to Colorado Springs Sunday for work. Last data collection trip! Also, last full week of work! I got permission for 20 hours of extended work week, so I will hopefully be really busy and get a lot finished. March 10th will be here before we know it- the day in which we both become gainfully unemployed!