I swear, I can't go a full year without moving at least once. I sort of feel restless if I don't. Hell, I sold my house after only living there for something like 15 months. We are moving this weekend and it's kind of bittersweet. I hate the actual act of moving but moving into almost 4 times the space we've been living in will make it all worth it. Boyf and I have been living in my 376 square foot apartment and it has definitely taken it's toll, especially since I also work here. We are going from 376 square foot studio apartment to a 1200 square foot house. I can totally see myself just wandering aimlessly throughout the house in complete shock for the first few hours of moving in. Maybe I'll run laps from the kitchen through the dining room to living room. Who knows.
There are stacks of boxes and furniture in every single corner of this place. It's literally something out of an episode of Hoarders, minus the 1,743 cats/cat carcasses. I feel so claustrophobic that I try and keep the front door open just to let some light in and bring some space from outside in. (Except that it's raining gatos y perros out there today) Three more days. I can do this.
In the meantime, I've been serenading myself all morning/afternoon to this jem I didn't even know existed until I found it on Spotify: