I’m terrible at moving. I get emotional and overwhelmed and then I give up. It’s super silly; a character flaw for sure.
But being in a new place, that I love. Blake and I just moved into a giant-windowed, light-filled bright white place so very near South of Broad. I find myself longing for the days when life calms down and we have nothing to do but sit and enjoy. But for now the fleeting glimpses of that — Sunday afternoon Lambrusco and scrabble in the rain, or our first dinner just the two of us at our amazingly meaningful new table — will suffice.