Okay, people, I am freaking out here. I hate moving more than any other activity on the planet, and I've got a big one coming up. I am in some serious denial about this. But, no matter what I do, a week from today, they will come and start taking our stuff away. A week from tomorrow we will move into a hotel for our final week here. I hate this. Did I mention I hate this? I have to live for a week in a hotel in a different town, no where near my dear friends, and I am dreading it. Why? Because, as you have certainly guessed by now, I am a sentimental freak. If we're still here in Germany, I want to be in my house with everything as it should be, with all my neighbors and friends and routines in place. Then, someone else would pack our bags. We'd just drive off to the airport, and we wouldn't have to witness or be a part of the gradual trickling away of what was our happy little world here.
As I type this, a friend down the street is moving her stuff out. I've had to drive by the moving truck twice and each time I start crying.
I had no idea it would be like this when I married my husband. I wanted nothing to do with the women who had married guys who do the same thing my husband does. Little did I know.
Now I feel as though I am going through a perpetual break-up with these incredible women (and also with Germany itself). Each time a friend moves out it wrenches my heart in two. And there's no end in sight, not until we ourselves bite the bullet and tschuss on out of here.
Ugh. Sorry for the depressing post. I actually logged on to share with you some photographs of the cute gifts I made for Jillsie's kindergarten teachers. I also want to share with you the amazing photography of my friend Kris. But these things will have to wait until a cheerier post. And I need to go hop in the shower and get ready to be seen in public.
Feeling like a total sop,
The Gutsy Mom