We are planning to pick up our RV tomorrow from the ranch, where we’ve been working on it for the past six weeks. Caleb’s parents are driving down from Azle to help us learn the ropes. Dad Simpson and Caleb are going to pick the RV up while Mom Simpson stays and helps me with the kids as I furiously pack up the remainder of our belongings. 

Oh, and did I mention that we are all sick? Caleb and I have a terrible cough and the kids both have pink eye. I’m pretty sure we are all just run-down from stress. This last month has probably been one of the most trying times in our marriage. We’ve been apart more than we’ve been together, since I’ve been out at the ranch most of the time while Caleb stays here and works. The RV remodel has been an emotional rollercoaster. Finances have been stretched to the max trying to make all this happen while remaining free of debt.  There is just one word for us right now: weary. 

But tomorrow is a new day. The first day, really, in our new journey. We will park our new home and start the downhill slide into the new normal of full time RV living. Between here and there is PACKING. 

I hate packing. 

  
I love unpacking. I can unpack and organize like it’s an Olymic sport. And usually I can muddle through my hatred of packing knowing that the joy of UNpacking awaits. But not today. Today I laid around in bed with my feverish children because it’s the only place to sit in our house. Everything is a mess. I’m overwhelmed and oh-so-tired. 

If we are going to move at all, I need a miracle. For now, I’m taking some NyQuil and hitting the sack. Tomorrow is a new day. 

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