homeless

We moved out of our house yesterday. We closed on Tuesday, the movers came Wednesday, and yesterday we donated the rest of our stuff to The Salvation Army, got junk haulers to take out the rest, packed up the car (badly), cleaned the house, and drove away. Even writing about it makes me choke up. As I walked around the house finishing everything up, I cried and cried. Partly because I was exhausted, party because I'm pregnant and hormonal (hey, look at that -- I buried the lede!!), but mostly because I really loved that house and I'm going to miss it. It was my home for almost 8 years, the place where I really grew up. So driving away just felt weird. Like one minute I had a house and then I didn't.

We're staying this weekend with my friend Kathleen and her family. It's so lovely to be with them and hang out before we hit the road on Sunday. Her little girls clamor for my and Jason's attention, and so far we've played Candyland, blocks, gone to the park with the dogs, watched Dora the Explorer, and read books. But I still feel homeless. It's very strange to be a guest in someone's house but not have anywhere else to go to make yourself a not-guest. I feel unsettled and uneasy.

I'm sure I sound very whiny right now. It'll pass. I think once we start the road-trip, I'll get more excited. Right now I just feel tired and nauseated and anxious.