It has not been a very interesting weekend to be Lilo.
I did something terrible to my back on Saturday in the process of…taking the sheets off the bed for laundry day. Don’t be like me, kiddos! Play it safe; skip the housekeeping and go hike instead. We did make it to the beach — I figured it was the only sane thing to do on our last weekend living this close to the ocean — but proper hiking (or sitting) (or standing very still) was not happening. And the crowning achievement of my day turned out to be not “make significant progress re: packing up the house” but rather “with sufficient ibuprofen on board, manage to tie own shoelaces.”
I’m a little more mobile today (Sunday) and did get some packing done in between meeting a pal for brunch, taking Lilo for short little strolls down the road, and far too many hours of vicarious hiking via computer survival sim. My books are now in boxes, which means the move is real. Lilo has mostly spent the day being unsettled, in between dying of boredom…
This is her third move in eighteen months, too, and she is not yet thrilled. Really wish I could explain to her that this one ought to stick.