The movers came at inappropriate o'clock last Monday morning to start packing everything we own. I had a lot of anxiety about how they would ever be able to do everything before the 4th of July, let alone in one day, but apparently 4 burly strangers with professional experience don't have the same kind of anxiety issues about moving as I do. They took 5 HOURS. And that doesn't count the 2 thirty minute breaks they took. Then they came back on Tuesday morning and loaded everything from my third floor walk-up onto a truck and again it took 5 hours. That's less than 8 episodes of West Wing. Guess how I know that.
And now I'm sitting on a windowsill, using an empty air mattress box as a footrest, and it's actually more comfortable than any chair we own (which are all somewhere in Iowa right now). I'll have to look into getting some better chairs.
The dogs are losing their hair in confusion and stress, but I think they should save some to lose during the 32 hour drive...
I'm doing quite well -- 23 weeks in today. Things I've eaten in the last month that I'm not supposed to eat: ham sandwiches, sausage, a spoonful of cookie dough, blue cheese, brie cheese, and sprouts. For some reason I'm ok with these exceptions, but have successfully avoided fried eggs with delicious runny yolks, which I miss dearly. In any case, I suspect that any deprivation-related stress at the sudden lack of ham sandwiches in my life would greatly outweigh the potential risks of eating said ham sandwich, even if I don't "heat until steaming" (who DOES that?).
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