Today I came across a big pile of tests that I brought home to grade over break. How in the world did I think that I would have the time to get anything done with moving? Maybe moving is like birth---over time the memory of how awful it is fades, so that you're stupid enough to do it again in the future (so I've heard). I fully expect today to be miserable and filled with snags and complications, but at least at the end of the day we won't have to commute to our other apartment to sleep--that's what we've been doing all week and it stinks.
Here's my best story this week. I enter the new building behind some other guy, and we both get in the elevator. I press the button for "4" and say to him "Which floor?" to which he replies "That's it-4" and smiles (people have been really friendly up there so far). Here's the rest of the conversation:
Me: "Oh, do you live on the 4th floor?"
Him: "No, I'm just doing some work there" (he looks like a contractor)
Me: "Ah." (thinking I should explain my possibly intrusive inquiry) "We just moved in on that floor and I'm just interested to meet the neighbors." (smile)
Him: (nods . . . about a 3 second pause . . .) "Sometimes the neighbors don't want to be met"
(cue dramatic horror movie music, lights flickering, etc)
How creepy was that? I brushed it off with small talk and moved on, but I nearly burst out laughing. I wish I could've just responded with something equally vague and foreboding . . . "Sometimes the neighbors should make an effort, or they might regret it."
In other notes:
-Christmas was fantastic. We had a lot of fun with the family, Collin is just old enough to kind of get the whole Christmas thing. Everyone was overly generous too.
-We had a frustrating ultrasound yesterday. All of the measurements came back normal (although the baby is measuring 1 week small) except that the baby was so tucked in and curled up (and NOT interested in moving) that they could only get half of the measurements they needed. So we go back in one week for another ultrasound.