I've moved a lot in my lifetime. But the older I get, the more I hate the entire process. In days past, I started early and shuffled through those old love letters from Bobby Joe and smiled while pouring over photos from various stages in my life. This time it's all crap, and I'm pitching into boxes as fast as I can.
Sure, I love the thrill of the new pad, the decorating, the fresh vow that this time I will keep a clean house. But with the new comes the worrying. Will my child make friends quickly? Will she like daycare? And how will she manage without her grammas? These days, not many folks live a shout away from most of their family. I do, and in some ways I can't wait to be out from under the microscope. But deep in my gut, I'm sure I'll be balling my eyes out when I pull out for parts Northern.
And I've just been informed that restaurants from Northern Virginia on up don't serve sweet tea. I'm not talking a fountain Lipton lemony drink. I'm talking syrupy sugar-rush tea, all the free refills you can drink. *sigh* And I'm shaking in my boots about my upcoming interview, praying a "y'all" or "ain't" won't slide out.
Later y'all ;)