Boy. Moving is tough work. The Dad Peep and I have moved only twice in 30 years. The last time was 20 years ago. It may be hard for us to be out in just two weeks, but our main concern is Winston.
We’ve found temporary housing in a two-story townhouse. A little less than half the size of what we just sold. WEEEE. What an adjustment. Until we find our forever home. (The market is crazy here.)
But I’m worried about the Winst. We decided on a temporary place with a little patio. So he can have a place to sit. And watch things. Like what he’s used to.
It’s one thing for us two-legged folks, but for him, it might be confusing. And sad. Or is it only sad for me? Of course it is. Sad to leave behind our beloved home and beautiful gardens. Sad to leave our great neighbors. But won’t it be just as sad for Winston to leave his four-legged friends? And his familiar surroundings?
We’re excited about our move. Time to “downsize” and declutter. No more cutting a half acre lot of grass in the middle of 100 degree F temperatures. More time to be together. To enjoy just being in the moment.
People say they’re jealous of our decision to shake things up a bit. And I believe them.
I hope Winston will be OK. He’s part of us now. We’re a pack of three.