We closed on our house at the end of January, which is usually not the best time to move.. or do pretty much anything outside in New England (besides ski I guess, but I’m not a big winter-outdoor-activities girl, meet you in the lodge with a cocktail). We planned to move in on a Friday, so I religiously checked the weather forecast hoping to avoid any pending snowstorms. All looked good, until the morning-of, obviously.
We didn’t have all that much to move since we were coming from an 800 sq.ft. apartment in Boston. Basically all we had were a couch, bed, and tons of misc. boxes (read: wedding gifts). My father and father-in-law were the fastest and most efficient movers we could have asked for and luckily were able to move all of our belongings into our house before the snow started really falling and then promptly took off leaving B and I to unpack a pretty epic mess.
Usually that kind of thing gives me mega anxiety, but I was so happy to have this new space to start our next exciting adventure and B reminded me we would tackle it, 1 day at a time. I’m embarrassed to say we still have 4 or 5 (probably more) boxes left to unpack but isn’t that what basements are for?