Moving Day!

I know I have been pretty absent on the blog lately -- with some good reasons, and hopefully I will get around to some posts on that.

But for now I thought I should at least hop on here today of all days....MOVING DAY!

MVP got a lot of work done yesterday, moving my bedroom furniture into the spare bedroom. Formerly L's Bedroom...I texted her last night to let her know I was sleeping in her room. And to wish her a Happy Birthday -- HAPPY BIRTHDAY L!!!!!

Last night we set up the new bed frame in our room. And it felt incredibly odd to tell him last night that something would be going "in our bedroom"...like very, very surreal.

Anyway, this morning the movers showed up at his place and moved the furniture and other big things that are coming to our place. We'll spend some back and forth time this weekend getting the rest of his stuff (and the stuff of mine that I kept there) out of the old apartment.

In looking for some "moving day" pics to use on this post, I was struck by something....




Why do all these couples look so damn HAPPY? Like moving is THE most fun thing they have ever done?

Am I looking forward to cohabitating with MVP? Absolutely. Do I enjoy turning the whole apartment inside out and upside down? NO. Have we each lost our patience with the other over something moving related? Hell yes. And I imagine it will happen several more times until we are finally moved in and settled.

I mean get a load of these two....they should really be a little more careful when unpacking the dishes and stop making goo-goo eyes at each other. Two hands with that plate please!!


The closest I could find to an accurate photo of what moving day REALLY looks like....well, I don't think this couple was all that thrilled about their move to begin with, if you catch my drift.



I did like the moxy of THIS gal, who is just sitting with her wine while the guy does all the work. I can only imagine how well that idea might go over with MVP.

I also enjoy how she really dressed for the occasion -- old, ripped jeans, and work-type boots -- even though she clearly had no intention of doing any work. Nicely played, girl. Nicely played.