The Peonies Will Be Moved

Yesterday continued the wave of goodbyes, with a neighbor-hosted gathering of all our wonderful friends on Hickory Drive. We lucked into this street eight years ago, and I fear no other street will ever compare. Good neighbors are no small thing. We spent many restless hours wondering, yet again, if this is all a Very Big Mistake. (Too late nooowwwwwww....)

We spent today doing more prepartions: loading firewood into the POD (the moving company won't take firewood), doing more garage cleanout to build our trash pile, packing up a few more things to go into the POD. Very soon, everything is going to be in limbo. We'll take some things with us in our car; more things will join us a week later in the POD; the rest will come two weeks after that in the moving truck. It's a process. I'm trying to be calmly accepting of the fact that it'll be at least a month before I know where anything is, but I know I'll have a breakdown over this at some point, when I can't find a stapler or a pair of scissors or particular earrings. As you all know, I'm no minimalist, but I am very very organized. There's nothing I hate more than not being able to locate something. And that is exactly what the next month is going to exclusively entail. 

Per the Marriage Contract, today I am the optimistic, positive partner looking forward to the adventure ahead, while Andrew wallows as I did on Saturday night. As this week progresses we may be trading off the highs and lows by the hour. 

Andrew sometimes takes a while to read this blog, so tonight I'll offer a secret prediction: The thing that might actually break us is that I'm determined to bring my three large pots of dead, dry husks of this year's peonies to our new house. The movers won't take them, so we'll have to get them into the car with us somehow. These peonies are beautiful every single summer and I REFUSE to leave them behind. Today Andrew put the pots into the trash pile, claiming he was "only storing" them there and that the trash collector would "know not to take them," which is obviously a collection of blatant lies. I've moved them to a safer spot on the other side of the driveway.