The Trauma of Moving

First of all, I'm thankful for parents who realize their adult children need help moving, and continually offer to help us move our stuff. So, thanks David, who flew out to North Carolina to help us move, and thanks Dad, who offered to fly out and help enough times I felt fully confident we would somehow make it three hours northwest to Chapel Hill. It really made me feel loved.

So that was the good part.

The bad part was how far away our future apartment was, and how there were so many steps so we couldn't use a dolly. The bad part was also the truck wasn't big enough so we had to make two trips. And then, how the first night in Chapel Hill, Tim got a migraine, and how the second through seventh night, he had a severe case of the hives. The bad part was how heavy our desk is, and how my book addiction got out of control in grad school, and how all of those things went to the third floor.

I don't want to dwell on these bad things, because ultimately they weren't that bad. I just want to document them, so the next time I move and I think, "Jeez, the last move was so much easier," God can strike me with lightning.