My bank account is blasting a number never seen by this girl before (and shall never see again). Despite a little hiccup (J is one of those trusting souls that actually believes bank tellers and allows them to put holds on our funds for no damn good reason other than he is too nice to say "oh hell no, get a manager--fortunately, he is married to an evil whore who will park her ass in the bank until this is fixed) there is a lovely amount of money in our account. Of course we owe most of it to other people and it will be there for about thirty seconds but still, I have the urge to frame the receipt with double matting and display it in the dining room.
We have keys. We have cash. We have a moving truck coming on Saturday morning. Holy shit we might be actually moving out of this house and into another and dear god it is about time.
Last night the people across the street came over to borrow an egg (we totally live in that neighborhood, where everyone knows each other's dogs and borrows cooking ingredients--it is a little creepy honestly, how nice everyone is) and we were all "you have to be shitting us, we don't own anything resembling a perishable food and probably never will again."
I just want to hang my clothes up in an actual closet and make microwave popcorn and never ever come out of my new house again.
It is less than forty-eight hours away. For reals this time.