We’re probably about 80% unpacked. It’s left to the boxes of stuff that you just groan when you open. They’re hodge-podgey and fit nowhere well. Yet for some reason it’s stuff we don’t get rid of. Unpacking is the pits.

I’d love to pin my sparse blogging totally on unpacking. And I’ll go with the 80% again here. 20% is the fault of Seasons 1 thru 3 of The Good Wife.

We’ve been in the house for about three weeks now. I think. Time has kinda lost meaning. We’ve been in the house for 2.5 seasons of binge watching The Good Wife on my iPad while I unpack. Feels like three weeks.

In this time, we got and have now cancelled cable. Comcast is a bag of dicks. We’d gone for years without but feel prey to one of there new customer deals. I thought, cable TV, how fun! Nope not fun. Comcast is the actual worst.

And for the three weeks since moving and several weeks leading up to moving, we’ve been on the search for our fireproof lockbox thing. We use it to hold all of our most important paper shit. Like passports, birth certificates, social security cards, wedding license, nursing license, etc. And wouldn’t you believe it is the one god damn thing we couldn’t find? I even ordered a copy of M’s birth certificate the other day b/c we’re going to travel in the not so distant future. Though Job’s SOL too because his license has expired. I just have to offer this up to the ethos, if these docs are so important, why not provide more than one copy? I mean, really, is it so hard to give two copies of a birth certificate?

So, not to draw out the suspense. The box was recovered yesterday. Now, we just need to find the keys.

Unpacking is such the pits.

* In all honesty the above pic was taken when we were still staying with my folks. I still haven’t unpacked our camera charger. Besides, she’s wearing a helmet and a monkey. This picture is never dated.