I think a majority of my life is spent moving. The boxes, the trucks, the dragging things up stairs, the bruised legs and paint smeared faces. I'm doing it again. I'm moving out of my mother's house again. It's hard work, but I'd like my own room again. If you want full details of the moving out session, wander over to Angie's blog, she is covering it in depth. Of course, then she will get another number on her counter and be even further ahead of me as far as internet sensationing goes, but alas, that is her destiny perhaps maybe.

Any way, the other night, after working hard on the new house, we gathered downstairs (where it was cooler we don't have ac yet) and lay on the newly shampooed carpet for a while. We talked about nothing with only a novelty flashlight for well, light. Then with no provokation or warning, we all jumped up and danced to "Blinded by the Light" (might not be actual title) which of course was only playing because we were all also singing it badly. I don't know how this happened. I don't know why. What I do know is that it was one of those moments, the moments that reassure you that everything is going to be ok.