Actually, we are moving.
Carlos started ripping up the bathroom floor on the 2nd level, where our bedroom is. It’s a mess. Tile on top of tile on top of tile. It’s going to take 3x as long as he originally thought to finish. And, weird as it sounds, I just won’t be able to stand it. All the disorder and disarray, the mess and dust. I always find it funny how emotionally unbalanced I can become when my environment becomes out-of-whack. I’m so sensitive of my surroundings, I guess.
So we are moving. Downstairs, to the main floor of our house, into the guest room.
It kind of feels like we are staying at a hotel. Except I’ll still be doing my own bed making & cleaning. Iggy thinks it’s cool.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to curl up and pretend like the upstairs doesn’t look the way it looks. Breath in. Breath out.