One Last Move

I can't believe we've been living in Orlando for over eight months now, which means in four more months we'll be packing up again and moving into our real home.

 The above was my first purge when beginning to pack up our Georgia house for Orlando. I remember feeling so bad about the huge mountain of crap I'd hauled curbside and gave Massey a twenty to take to the garbage men that morning, telling them lunch was on me.

They took it...the money and  the junk.

Dang I still miss the old house. It's no mansion but will always be home. We spent two decades behind those walls and cherish every second of it, even the bad times... and lucky for us were few and far between.

We packed for weeks. Tim was already living in Orlando so it was just me and the two younger kids. I didn't quit my job until two days prior to moving day so my kids did most of the packing. They even packed the possum...yes we are truly Clampetts.

Tim flew into town and one day later, we threw our remaining crap in a truck and took off for Orlando.

After a harrowing seven hour drive, arrived in Florida...in the separate vehicles with a dog in each one.

 After squeezing the bare minimum to survive into a tiny rental house for twelve months, threw the remaining things into a storage unit.

I went back to Georgia for a weekend about five months later and sifted through what we'd left after hastily exiting stage left for Orlando.

I still left our huge china cabinet, an even bigger computer desk and my Johnny Dear along with all his gardening tool buddies in the house for final pickup when we finally move into our real home here.

You never realize you're actually a hoarder until you move after two decades of keeping pretty much every thing you ever walked through the door with.

I still have the attic to go... Baby Steps.

So here we are now, sixteen weeks from when we have to do it all again but with a lot less crap to haul across town.

Yeah, it was hard (almost brutally so) at first. I was lonely for my sister. I missed my amazing job. I missed my younger son who turned tail (homesick) and went back to Georgia after living here less than a week. I missed all my friends. In essence, felt I missed my life. 

But here's the thing about life, the most important thing... which took me almost eight months to realize.

By doing it...I mean living it to the fullest.

I've learned (sometimes) the hard way. If you want to be happy...be happy.

Take what life throws your way and knock it out of the park even if you foul out once or twice. Make that Granny shot with the ball betwixt your  knees and fling that ball towards the basket to the best of your ability. If you miss the hoop...keep trying.

If you need to, take a time out...but never quit the game.

It's the game of life and I'm in it to win it.

Til next time...COTTON