Mom: "How's the packing coming?"
Watergirl: "HA!"

Little Matty: "How's the packing coming?"
Watergirl: "HAAA!"

My house looks less like I am packing, and more like I have decided that collecting boxes is fun. I do have two boxes packed, but one of them contains my bird book, and I need that to tell lastewie what birds I saw this weekend, so I will be unpacking it. Right now, the boxes are most likely to contain cats.

(Note to cats: stop going in the boxes. The boxes are not for play. I am thisclose to taping up boxes with you inside them. I will label the box with one of my new Sharpies (many colors! couldn't resist!) and not unpack it until after the move. So there.)

Many of y'all have asked if the move is local. I assure you it is. I am moving 3.7 miles away from where I live now. The joke is that I am moving into the containment area. See, it is said that the name of the town I will be living in is an acronym for "Containment Area for Relocated Yankees." However, I am not moving into one of the big, fancy, golf communities. In fact, the house was built in the 1950s, long before (or long after, depending upon how you look at it) the Yankee Influx. It is a 3-bedroom, 1.5 bath house with hardwood floors, a mostly decorative fireplace, and a beautiful kitchen. The storage in the house is excellent, especially considering the era it was built in. I love it, and will post pictures when I move in.