The Storm Before The Calm

The countdown has official begun!

We close on the new house in two weeks and six days--woohoo!

But before all that fun is upon us, we're gearing up for another major event this Saturday: a garage sale.

But not just any old garage sale. A garage sale to find new homes for a decent chunk of our furniture and belongings that won't be making the trek to the new casa.

So...we're currently in what I like to call the Explosive Stage of moving, where it basically looks like someone pulled the pin on a grenade, right in the middle of my kitchen, living room, dining room, study, and, well, pretty much ANY area of the house that has any available real estate whatsoever.

Now, I'm not gonna show you pics of this explosion because it's quite shameful--even for someone who generally has no shame. But I will show you a pic of what all of our worldly possessions will look like by the time moving day rolls around in a few weeks:

Now isn't that lovely?

A place for everything, and everything in its place (my new motto, FYI).

Every item in that closet has been sorted (to identify garage sale items), packed and labeled (according to my fancy fancy color-coded system) and the sight of it makes me very, VERY happy.

Now, if only the rest of the house looked like that.

Sigh.

But you know what? The rest of the house will look like that soon. As in, before the garage sale. And though it's painful to think of how much work still has to be done in the next few days, it makes my soul happy to know that in a few short days, we'll have the worst of the organizing/packing for moving day completed by default, and we'll have survived a major purge (or shall I say cleanse, since that sounds a little nicer, yes?).

The only major downside to all this--aside from the back-breaking, never-ending work, of course--is the little time I have to complete it without running into quality time with Chica.

Worse--there's even less time to complete all this work during "regular business hours" (as if there is such a thing for a Mama--ha) without accidentally making some ridiculously loud, jarring noise that wakes Chica up from her one daily nap. Like I did today. Oye.

The only thing that calmed the poor thing down after half an hour of screaming bloody murder and generally melting down was Sofia, of course. Which she watched from the comfort of Mama and Daddy's unmade bed.

Not exactly exemplary parenting, but you know what? Sometimes, you just do what you gotta do, and it's all for a good cause and a wonderful end goal of a blessed new home.

So here's hoping tomorrow is a jointly productive and quality time-driven day.

Over and out.