The move was epic, with my mother and her husband (bless their hearts) helping us wrangle in our mess of an apartment in Norwalk and cram a UHaul full of our earthy belongings.  My husband drove the truck up 95 north at the breakneck speed of 48 miles per hour (thank you, UHaul, for giving us a truck without the ability to accelerate or maintain normal speeds), and I served as chauffeur for three yowling cats, all lined up in the back of my Honda.

Exhibit A, for “Annoying, Yowling Beasts:”

Three cats is three too many.

We drove for hours.  And then unpacked.  For hours.  With the help of my mom, her husband, two of Chris’s friends, and his dad.  Without the help of Siah, who decided last minute to pee in the cat carrier and then roll around in it, forcing me to spend the first fifteen minutes in our new place with her immersed in the bathtub.  (I SO WISH I had a photo of Siah post-bath, because she looked like a moody, gray Stuart Little.  But alas, I couldn’t find the camera.)

Moving makes me low.  My two day blood sugar average has plummeted to 80 mg/dl (thanks to many, many 50’s that cropped up while we were schlepping boxes), and I’ve eaten my fair share of these:

Yummy, but not by the dozen.

Our furniture has been delivered, we’ve unpacked at least our sweatshirt and shoes (still looking for the rest of our clothes, so we’re dressed at bit oddly at the moment), and the cable guy came and hooked us back up to the Internet.  (YAY!)  Oh, and I found this pen, which I thought had been lost forever ago, but has since resurfaced in a box marked “SWEATERS:”

This is not a sweater.

I love our new place, we are settling in quickly, I’m exhausted, and I’m excited to move forward and see what’s next.  

Oh, and Shoes?  I don’t miss you one.  freaking.  bit.