It says this is the first day of Holy Crap! month, more commonly known as June. Its exclamatory nickname is favored in our house, though, because we can see the end (or the next beginning) from here.
Thirty days. Four weekends: graduation, garage sale, Beachcomber Days, our good-bye party.
Then my parents will be here, and we'll close on our house sale and drive away. We have a truck reserved and plane tickets purchased. (My mom and I are taking the red-eye with a toddler and a carry-on cat and a cargo-checked dog. Lord, have mercy.)
Aaron's work is winding down. We are selling his car. Closer to the move we'll get rid of my van.
We are having a
We are downsizing as much as possible to get everything into a reasonably-sized moving truck. It's amazing how much we can get rid of without missing it, even though we had a huge sale less than three years ago. Aaron recently found some crusty spices of midwest origin in the cupboard, and we decided that no food that moved here with us should move back. The same rule should probably apply to my wardrobe.
But hands off my books!
Back to work . . . sorting duty calls.