We have a little over two weeks before we make yet another cross-state trek and just to spice things up, temps have been in the upper 80s in my not-airconditioned apartment. I'm reminded of our first months here when we unpacked in the sweltering heat. But when I pause for a moment and remember what Florida is like this time of year, the humidity so thick we joked you could swim through it, I realize this isn't that bad. But I'm glad our Michigan apartment will have air.
I added a few more boxes to the pile stacking up in the dining room. Mount Kittymanjaro is sufficiently high enough for the cats to sprawl out on without worry of a toddler intrusion.
In a bitter and frustrating twist of fate, we decided to throw all the boxes and newspapers we'd been storing up for this move in the trash. These are the same boxes we've used the last few moves, the ones I stash in closets and under beds, the very reasons why I have no closet space - all in the trash. After the bug guy sprayed, we found a few large, dark red bed bugs dead on our boxes. Their bodies get darker after a recent meal. We aren't sure if they were fleeing the couch after ingesting poison or if they always lived there, but we decided $150 in brand new packing supplies (there was no chance I was going to buy some used off Craigslist) was better than the risk of bringing bed bugs to Michigan. I'm still bitter about the whole thing, but the OCD side of me is delighted by the stack of coordinated, matching boxes in the corner.
In a second twist of fate, my very pregnant sister-in-law (overdue and waiting to be induced now) asked Matt and I to be her new baby's Godparents and scheduled the Baptism for the day we arrive in Michigan. Matt and I decided to give ourselves a bit of a cushion, so we'll be leaving the big city a day ahead of schedule instead. Our new lease begins July 19th, but we'll arrive in Michigan on Friday 26 July.
In other, not-very-surprising news, packing with a two-year-old is rather difficult. It's really a "pack two boxes, unpack one box" type situation. I've officially bowed out of all remaining therapy sessions and plan to pack the things for which I certainly do not want a toddler's help while I have someone else around. I'm still in the "decorations-winter-clothes-and-odd-kitchen-appliances" stage of packing, when I can still take evenings to cool off in Lake Michigan. As much as I love Chicago and wish we didn't have to leave, I've formally turned off my emotions surrounding the move and am just anxious to get it all over with and get unpacked. One day we're gonna stop. One day we're gonna buy a house we love in a place we love and settle down. Maybe have another kid or two.
That last part was my bitter sense of humor kicking in. Guess I haven't shut down all emotion, eh?