I hated the house we were living in.
It was a pretty house. But it was old. And I'm not tall enough to reach the ridiculously high cabinets. And it was super expensive to heat. And the yard was always flooded and smelled of stagnant water. And the last few weeks it was full of enormous spiders.
And there's the bigger issue. The nightmares.
After watching my baby die in that bathroom, I had a hard time even looking toward that door. If I had to pee, I would hold it to the point of almost pissing myself because I don't like going in there. If I had to pee while I was asleep, it would give me nightmares. I can't tell you how many sleepless nights I've had, just because of that damn toilet.
So this week we moved.
Lots of packing, cleaning, loading, and unloading. Lots of walking. Lots of stairs. Not much sleep. Not much energy. I'm too exhausted to even think about unpacking. I have clean underwear, clean socks, pajamas, and shower stuff. That's all that's really necessary, right?
The new place has stairs. From the top of the stairs to the front door is 25 steps, if you are walking normally. If you are walking up the stairs, carrying heavy things down the stairs, and the repeating all over again for 8 hours... that is absolute hell. (I'm in love with this place, so it was worth it.)
I think I may have pulled a muscle in my leg. But I'm too stubborn to go to the doctor. Hopefully a few more days of soaking and massaging it will help. If not, I'll probably just continue my slow hobble until Bryan makes me go have it checked.
Tomorrow morning we will finally buy some groceries for this place.
Friday, hopefully, the leg will be better and my energy will be back up so we can put stuff away. Then it will look like someone actually lives here. And I'll get some pictures posted.