All of the boxes are now unpacked.
No, okay, I lie. There is a box in the garage marked "Laundry." I am not sure what all is in it except some cleaning stuff and a throw blanket that lived atop the washer in our apartment. (Why did it live there? I don't know.) There is a box in a guest bedroom marked "board games." There are dedicated shelves for these games upstairs, but no one has been willing to make the trek up the stairs with the box, so it remains. There are also several pieces of art that have not been unwrapped yet. Eventually we will uncover them and decide where to hang them.
But that's it. Everything else has been unearthed and organized and placed. I feel triumphant.
I have also gotten over my cold. It was not allergies, thankfully (although the cold certainly could have been exacerbated by them). (And it had nothing to do with buying a new house; the home was built over six years ago, and the carpet was installed new for showing/selling the house. Many homeowners do this regardless of the house's age.) I am relieved not to be allergic to my own house.
Ish's parents came to visit on Saturday and it was nice to have that as an unpacking deadline. For two weeks I did nothing but unpack boxes, organize all sorts of things, run to the store, nap, sneeze/hack/cough, and chase after cats. Mostly unpack. It's been a blur. I'm glad it's done.
I'm sitting in my home, having absolutely no idea what comes next.
I mean, aside from the baby.
I/we had our new-to-us doctor's appointment today. She's a little big for her age (she's ~30 centimeters at ~27 wks), so we'll schedule an official sonogram to check on that, but mostly things seem fine. She's finally started to move and kick a lot more in the last couple days.
No, we do not have a name yet. Not even close.
I know I am supposed to enjoy the peace and quiet now, since there won't be much more of that post-kid. But it's all totally weird and surreal and strange.
For example, I've never in my life had more time to blog, and I've never been more stuck for what to say.
It's not like I don't have stories. Oh, I have stories. Stories from San Francisco, stories from growing up. I have found tons of photos and cringe-worthy notes from high school that are, for many reasons, still excruciatingly embarrassing...possibly too embarrassing to share. I feel like I just need a jumping-off point.