Ok, so I'm unpacking today, and it's taking me ALL day because I have a severe case of the dawdle and also because Joel's in school so I'm the only one to make all the executive decisions (like where the hell do I put all this junk?). And I start to run out of steam at around 5:00, and alls that's left to do is find homes for all the miscellanea and stack all the boxes and vacuum up all the leaves that I tracked in earlier and I finally get it all done and everything put away and the house looks awesome and liveable and then hrack! There's a box under the tv. And not even, like, this is a box of dishes I must put away or this is a box of clothes I must hang up, but this is the last-ditch box that we flung everything into that wouldn't fit anywhere else, viz. this box is full of agony. I almost cried.
And now, apropos of nothing, I had no cat allergies in Mexico but had TERRIBLE cat allergies previous, so we're conducting an experiment wherein we unlock the little cat door that leads to our suite and let the comically-oversized grey cat (if he so chooses) to come into our home, and then we see if I am miserable. Maybe I am only allergic to Canadian cats.
H'adios, kids.
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