So. Our suburban home is supposed to close, be no longer ours, belong to someone else June 17th. I planned to spend this week finishing the packing, then clean the house the following week, then pack suitcases for the kids and I and get on a plane to go out of state to see my dad, who hasn't been very well. But yesterday, hubby tells me he wants us out of the house by this Sunday. Color me flustered!

His reasoning is logical. There is no way we can move, sign closing paperwork, and get to the airport on our closing date. What was I thinking?? Of course, something could still go wrong with the sale of our house...but we are praying for smooth sailing.

So, I'm frantically trying to pack. But hubby moved our tiny house motor coach to our new location already, so I need boxes to pack the things we'll need for everyday living, as well as for long term storage. I don't have enough boxes! So I feel scattered, packing a little here (with what boxes I have), cleaning a little there.

To top it off, we had to change the final move date to this Saturday, instead of Sunday, because there is a family birthday party on Sunday. So I get to do this all. by. myself. while hubby is at work.

I'm trying to focus on the fact that I'm so very thankful. Thankful to not be sitting in a nearly empty house with nothing to do. Thankful the weather has cooled down. (It was 90 degrees, and all our fans, AC, and anything else we could have used to keep us cool was hours away in storage.) Thankful we'll soon be out in the woods. Thankful that we're going to be a huge step forward in living our dream.

But also bummed that I'm so exhausted from not sleeping well the past week or so. (Weather, and too much on my mind.) And bummed that hubby has to stay behind so our house doesn't sit empty...That is, until it's no longer ours!

Up, down, up, down, goes my mood.

But, really, I just intended this post to say something along the lines of: I won't be blogging much over the course of the next few weeks. But when I do blog, you'll get to start reading about (and seeing) our new homestead. Whoop!