Three weeks ago today was our last day living in this state:
We woke up early and took care of some business at the County attorney's office (oh, have I not told you that story yet?) and then picked up the U-haul.
When my brother showed up around noon, we began the grueling task of taking all the boxes and furniture from our 3rd floor apartment and loading them onto the 17-foot-long U-haul.
It was hot, but we were very thankful for the elevator. As more wonderful helpers arrived, our apartment became more bare and my mother-in-law and I began cleaning, a task I am never thrilled about.
Soon, I heard rumors that the U-haul was full and there was still more stuff. Where had it all be hiding? I have no clue. We filled up another car and two more trucks.
As quickly as we had begun, the task was over. Our friends had left and I was alone in our very first apartment. Our home for the past 3 years was completely empty, yet so many memories flooded my thoughts. I don't know if it was the heat, the exhaustion, or the yucky smell from the self-cleaning oven that I had just remembered to turn on, but the tears came and they weren't to be stopped. I sat in the corner of our bedroom and cried.
Hubs soon came to find me and we got ready to leave and spend the night at his parent's home. We were planning to leave at 8am sharp the next morning and we were both mentally and physically weary.
We fell into bed that night and slept soundly until the alarm went off. I woke up with renewed excitement and energy. Today I would see our new home. Today would start a new journey of our lives.