Nothing's Gonna Change My World
Moving is always an adventure. Moving into your mom's man-friends house (he doesn't live here, he's our new landlord) is even more of an adventure. The combination of me with PMS, Mom with menopause and Fred just generally moody because of his new meds is asking for trouble. I guess it's really strange then, with all that to bring us down, that the move actually is going pretty well, maybe even better than the last one, two years ago. I'm sitting in the random room of our new place right now (I say random because it's supposed to be the dining room but it's the our-living-room-and-bedrooms-are-too-small-to-fit-all-our-crap room) and it feels kind of nice. The kitchen is really beautiful and my room is a slightly larger closet than my last room so who am I to complain. Today's adventures included almost getting buried in a pile of carboard boxes in the garage and sitting in the car outside my moms office writing lists on the backs of spa advertisements. And don't get me started on trying to find a new pizza place. This is why moving is so hard.
I guess the hardest part is not living in Lynbrook anymore. The last time we moved it was out of the house that I grew up in, but still within the same town, so same restaurants, doctors, clerks at the stores and so on. Now we're here in another apartment that I didn't grow up in, only an hour from my hometown. It could be so much worse, I know. But it still feels a little weird. Monday would have been 13 years since we moved to Lynbrook. My how things have changed.
Last night was the highlight of the trip so far, my mom and I were laying in her bed and we were both slap-happy from not having slept and so the puns started flying and it got to the point where neither of us could breathe we were laughing so hard. And then we started singing and my brother chimed in with the next line as he was walking to the bathroom and scared us both to death. I'm sure the new neighbors are thrilled that they now live next-door to two tone-deaf, screaming women, and a guy who plays 25 instruments, sings Tradition from Fiddler as Vagina and plays his own recordings of popular songs at all hours. And the tenant upstairs hasn't even moved in yet. Oh boy.
Love always,
Kelly Jean
I guess the hardest part is not living in Lynbrook anymore. The last time we moved it was out of the house that I grew up in, but still within the same town, so same restaurants, doctors, clerks at the stores and so on. Now we're here in another apartment that I didn't grow up in, only an hour from my hometown. It could be so much worse, I know. But it still feels a little weird. Monday would have been 13 years since we moved to Lynbrook. My how things have changed.
Last night was the highlight of the trip so far, my mom and I were laying in her bed and we were both slap-happy from not having slept and so the puns started flying and it got to the point where neither of us could breathe we were laughing so hard. And then we started singing and my brother chimed in with the next line as he was walking to the bathroom and scared us both to death. I'm sure the new neighbors are thrilled that they now live next-door to two tone-deaf, screaming women, and a guy who plays 25 instruments, sings Tradition from Fiddler as Vagina and plays his own recordings of popular songs at all hours. And the tenant upstairs hasn't even moved in yet. Oh boy.
Love always,
Kelly Jean