...and before you know it, a week turns into two weeks, and then a month and all your faithful blog readers are disgruntled and sending you hate mail because they are tired of checking in and seeing the title of your Long Ago Last Post pop up on their screen. Then you are almost too embarrassed to start posting again (in addition to that little, pesky detail of not being settled in your new, "as is" house-- which carries it's own bucket o'guilt with it every time you think about getting on the computer, which isn't exactly working since your new server will not recognize your old email address. But fortunately, the whole "I'm not a quitter" thing kicks in (also known as pride), and you find yourself sheepishly drawn back to the blog :)
There's so much to tell you! But it's midnight here in the city (not sure what time it is in the country CAUSE I DON'T LIVE THERE ANYMORE, PRAISE GOD!), and my daughter and my adorable grandchildren are here visiting for A Whole Week so I need to get some rest so I can do some more hugging and holding tomorrow :) While I'm asleep I'm sure God will reward me for returning to my blog by giving me some really great idea for a new post tomorrow. You might want to pray with me on that, girls - because right now my mind is filled with thoughts of curtains and paint colors, landscape ideas, and rugs and window replacements.
Not such great blog fodder.
Unless you're Martha Stewart....which I am certainly not. I don't even like the lady anymore. Not since I read her article on Getting Ready to Move. You did know she moved from her beloved Turkey Hill didn't you? The problem with following the advice in her article is that all my servants were on vacation the week I moved (bad timing). And I didn't have enough parchment paper to put between every plate I packed. Nor could I afford the gas to transport each of my "art pieces and chandeliers" separately, wrapped in linen, over to my new place.
Truth be told, I went two weeks without finding my thyroid medicine, body splashes, sunglasses, and laptop cord. I finally found them packed (together....as if there was some common denominator amongst them) in a box marked "Dad's office".
I also didn't have my toothbrush for two days (even though it was supposed to be in a box marked "Open Right Away"),so I had to share with my husband. Not sure why that grosses me out - even though I insisted on boiling it before I used it....each time. It finally dawned on my sleep-deprived, box-crazed mind that I could actually walk to Walgreens and just treat myself to another doggone toothbrush. I'm smart like that, dontcha know.
Now Martha, she's not married. So she would've had to borrow one of her servant's tooth brushes (grosser than a husband's) or maybe one of her dog's (grosser than a servant's).
I'm getting slap-happy. I need to go to bed. Good night, friends :)