Sleeping here tonight...

Alone. I'm back in Dallas, waiting for the moving truck to pull up in front of our house. Time to pack it all up and haul it to our new spot. I'll be here for a few days-no Internet-so posts will be spotty at best.

For the past 4 weeks my mind has reeled with how to fit the things in this suburban home into our new urban rambler. I have never been a fan of these 12 foot ceilings, but now we are moving to 8 foot ceilings and I have a sense of claustrophobia you cannot believe. I've literally been woken from sleep with thoughts like "will the library cupboard even fit in the new dining room?" and trying to measure the piece in my mind inch by inch. I've scolded myself over being materialistic a thousand times. I've told myself that I am now become a snob-that Graham Manor in Texas has spoiled me, tall ceilings and sweeping staircases and all. My over active need to worry about something has taken to worrying about the height, width, depth and configuration of every piece of furniture we own and how it will be organized and arranged in our new set of walls.

These are just things. Couches, guest beds and bookshelves do not a home create. How I behave in the new walls has a lot more to do with what kind of home it will be than how our furniture fits-or doesn't fit...but it hauts me just the same. And only moving through the moving of our things will settle the emotional unrest that has kept me unsettled for weeks.

wish me luck as I cheerlead professional movers ("can I get you a soda? Your doing great! How 'bout I get y'all pizza for dinner and you can keep right on workin'! thanks for all your help!") and say goodbye to wonderful friends. The emotional act of moving comes to a head for me when I close the door on a home that I've put my heart into and look forward to a new home that "isn't yet me" but soon will be.

See you back here on Wednesday...