I realized that all these years, I had been dreading a giant toad, lurking offshore, waiting to suck me under and drag me out to sea.
We close on our new house this Thursday.
Everyone keeps asking when we are moving.
“Sometime after May 8th,” I keep responding.
Normally something as enormous as packing up a four-bedroom house and moving (even three miles away) would be ridiculously stressful to me. You know me. I can hardly take my entire family on a road trip to Tennessee without planning out the packing situation for days in advance. (Don’t even get me started on airplane travel.)
It is raining today. And a little chilly. And for the first day of October, I find myself saying, “Thank you North Carolina, and it is about time.”
I’m usually the touter of all things summer time, and have been claiming for many years that summer is my favorite season. I like the summer wardrobe better than winter. I’d rather be hot than cold. I like the long days. I like sunshine. Dare I admit this? I like being tan.
The UnderToad 