Recently, I rented an absolutely adorable apartment in an old house in Virginia. The neighborhood is adorable, the house is adorable, the apartment is adorable. Some day, there will be pictures.
But not now, no, definitely not. Because it's a disaster. I moved from a 1-bedroom apartment in Ann Arbor to a 4-bedroom house, then briefly lived with my Darlin', then to my Paran's house, then, finally, to a 1-bedroom apartment in Ol' Virginny.
Living by yourself is amazing.
Having boxes stacked on boxes, stacked on the coffee table, which is on top of some flattened boxes? Not amazing. The point of the moving narrative is that I have moved several times in the past few years and several more times before that. And I am still in possession of things that I should have thrown away before I moved from Louisiana to Michigan.
Hence the disaster. I only hope to get everything squared away before my sister comes to visit. In less than 2 weeks. Right.