For fcking better or worse...

This move...sigh...I know, more whining about moving. I'm even tired of it but, alas, it's my party and I'll whine if I want to.

So, you stand before your officiant and take your marriage vows alongside your beloved and you say them...and you really do mean them. And sometimes life hands you shit sandwiches and down the hatch they go and here you are reflecting on your wedding vows because those vows are the only thing keeping you from reaching your arm out 2500 miles and ripping your husband's head off. And I know that this rough patch is probably not the worst we'll see during what I hope will be decades of marriage but this fcking sucks. SO MUCH.

And I am very, very tired of this situation. I am tired of being the only one in charge. I am tired of being the one who makes the phone calls and arrangements for sub-contractors, movers, glass crating companies, realtors, more sub-contractors and various cleaning companies. And I know that these are things that only I can do b/c I am the one who is here to let people in, take measurements, write checks, etc. and goodness knows that Michael is helping as much as he can. But. These are the things that make me long for my single days in a one-bedroom apt with my dog. I just want to crawl in a hole and never come out. Instead, however, I'm going to drag my ass to the post office, the UH@ul store, the hardware store, G00dwill and the Upscale Resale store to drop off donations and go to the bank. And then come home and pack my ass off. Blarg. Hate everything.