My husband and I moved house over the 4th of July weekend. Our lease at our previous place was up, and we wanted to be closer to his job. We left the college town we'd lived in for the first 10 months (or so) of our marriage for a suburb of Kansas City, an hour and a half (!!) away from both of our families (who do not, of course, live in the same town). I'm sad that popping over to our parents' houses for an afternoon is no longer a reality. I'm going to miss the vibrant college town with it's cute shops and hole-in-the-wall eateries, the lake and trails, and oddly enough our apartment. (I'm pretty sure that one's first apartment with a spouse is like one's first car: no matter how awful it was, you'll look back on it with fondness and some seriously rose-colored glasses.)
We've definitely upgraded our living situation, though. Justin is 20 minutes or less from work, instead of 50+. We live in an actual house now, with a yard and a grill and a driveway (and all of the maintenance that comes with). I have an actual studio with a real, honest to goodness WINDOW. The house is adorable, the neighborhood is nice, and the number of times drunk people try to batter down our door at 2 a.m. should decrease to just about zero. Life is good.
Our fantastic crew of helpers got us moved in despite the ugly rain, and we've spent the last week unpacking boxes (most of which seem to be books; I have no problems with this). We're mostly moved in, now, and I've turned to the studio and Craigslist, searching for the perfect curio cabinet. I was rewarded with this:
And now that I have the display and storage space I so desperately needed, I can work on getting this sorted out:
It's going to be a long haul, but I should be actively back in the studio next week. I can't wait.