the title is always the worst part

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I can’t even explain to you how many times I’ve sat down in front of my computer, opened up WordPress and then just stared at it because I don’t know how to title my post. It’s like I’m trying to title a Pulitzer Prize winning novel, except harder because I’ve already done that (in my head) at least five dozen times.

Things have been busy around this neck of the urban woods. We have 27 days until we go to Vegas and 33 days until we can move into our new house. We’ve already made one trip to Goodwill and have plans for at least one more before we move, because as much as I love my stuff I’ve had for years and have never taken out of a box, I like not having to carry as much boxes even better.

I found a box of various greeting cards that possibly date back until the 1980s. Thanks to a suggestion from Dez (courtesy of Mrs. Dez), I’m totally scanning them and putting them into a hard cover book, so I can just throw the box away. I think it comes from growing up with two grandmas that had the most fantastic photo albums ever, but I just love being able to go back and look at those kinds of things. And, yes, that’s including the note from my fourth grade teacher, who thanked me for taking care of our classroom guinea pig (Chipper) over Christmas break. I also passed several years of swimming lessons with flying colors, in the event that you’re curious. And my letters to Santa? Very well thought out for a six year old.

And the Beanie Babies. Damn those things. I don’t even care about them, but I spent way too much time on Ebay trying to find certain ones to just throw them out… possibly over 15 years ago. Sigh. Who wants some Beanie Babies? Most have the tags!

I think I said this when we moved into this house, but I really mean it moving into this next one. I seriously don’t want to move again for at least two years. That’s not too much to ask, is it?