I've made at least a dozen phone calls this morning, seeking quotes from movers and mobile storage unit providers and the like. Our move begins now, even though we're not technically moving out of our house for another month. Why the rush? Because we have scheduled not one but TWO vacations during the month of July. Husband and I are leaving town for all of next week to attend a family reunion on July 4th as well as a cousin's wedding a few days later. We'll be back home for a week and then leave town again for my family's annual week-long beach trip. (I mean my entire family, by the way. There will be eleven children there. Some vacation, huh?) Then we'll return home again and there'll be just a few days to finish packing up and get the hell out.
Husband and I did manage to squeeze in some down time over this weekend, though I suppose that "squeezing in" down time makes it sound like just another chore. We hired our ebullient college student babysitter extraordinaire to sit around in case Bean woke up from her night's sleep while we went to see The Proposition. The movie was super-violent, visually filthy, and stark, which I should have expected from a screenplay written by Nick Cave. Not exactly date-night material, especially because all we had time to do beforehand was grab a tank of gas and then a cheap beer at the pool hall next to the theater, but whatever. That's married life, right? And anyway there appear to be ZERO good movies out at the moment. (The DaVinci Code is not my idea of a must-see flick.)
But I wander here. And Bean wakes up. And there is lunch to make and packing to do, so off I go.