We're moved. The lousy apartment in the ghetto neighborhood is no more. The move was not without its bumps and bruises, though. But it would be too easy for things to run smoothly, no?
The hubs was in the ER the night before the move - when lots of packing still had to be done - and didn't get home until 3 the morning of the move.
One of the cats got temporarily lost.
Something got broken, but I can't for the life of me remember what.
It was raining and freezing and icy all day.
I wound up with the same crud that W was fortunate to acquire. I'm afraid I'm going to cough myself into an early labor.
The baby decided to spike his first real fever, instilling in his parents a sense of panic since neither of us knew what the "take-him-to-the-ER" cutoff was for a fever. I was floored when I learned it was 105. I once had a fever of 104 and was pretty sure I was dead, but no, I had just passed out in the doctor's office.
So the 3 of us are currently sick. I'm convinced that mine is the flu, and if it is, then this will be 2 for 2 that I've had the flu shot and wound up with the flu anyway.
I'm still getting used to the creepy new-house noises. I can't quite seem to figure out where the thing that sounds like monster teeth gnashing and serial killer lip smacking is coming from, but I do know that I won't be making any solo trips to the basement any time soon. I'm pretty sure the guy from The Blair Witch is down there.