There is nothing fun about moving. Whatever joy I felt at having a new place, new possibilities is completely negated by the amount of sweat and frustration caused by moving every last little thing in my apartment to a new place. I am the worst about keeping bits and pieces of things that I just might one day find a use for, so these events are particularly upsetting for that reason. Once my shame of keeping junk is exposed, I realize that I make everything harder by leading such a life. And I have to pay someone, usually big, burly men, LOTS of money to help me continue on this path.
Luckily, we found some great movers (shout out to Ken's Moving and Storage of Maspeth) and the rest was easy. Oh wait, no. It was hellish and I think I almost killed my mother. Not as in "killed" because I was sick of her, but as in "killed" because she had to clean everything twice and then put all the pieces together. She swears I'm worth it, but I think she really only did it for Elisa. I love the grandma love. It really goes deep.
So, here are a few pics from the beginning of the move in. I love that Nacho and Elisa have almost the same pensive look here. I'm guessing Nacho is wondering when I'm going to make him take me to IKEA for more blinds and Elisa, well, she's probably going to poop. What a week.
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