Last year, I found myself "homeless" for over 6 months... a month was spent with my mother-in-law, a few months with my sister and her boyfriend in their one bedroom duplex (we were very cozy), several months in Thailand going from a shared home then hostel to hostel to monastery, followed by more hostels, a week back with my sister, a week with my other in-laws, and finally Joe and I moved into a home of our own.
Needless to say, I was thrilled to have a permanent place to stay and to not be living out of suitcases and bags. I was so happy that I threw myself into making a cozy home for us and the pup. And we loved it. It was the first time that Joe and I had ever lived together and in that house, we created many memories: from the simple ones like getting used to living with one another, to major life events like getting engaged, getting married, and finding out about our little one.
I had no idea that only 9 months later, we'd be "homeless" yet again.
When we found out about getting stationed in California, we decided to use some of Joe's leave and take a little trip to Colorado and Wyoming. I had never been to Wyoming and it would give us a chance to see some of Joe's family. So, we purchased a trailer and decided to be a couple of vagabonds for a month!
Needless to say, life has been a bit crazy this past week. All last week was spent moving out of our cozy little home, getting it all cleaned up, and then getting settled in our camper and prepping for our massive road trip, which Hubs has very strategically scheduled around football season (gotta love a man who has his priorities straight!!!). My only stipulation for camping is to be located near a bathroom... I'm pregnant... can you blame me?
I'm interested to see how this next month goes. Joe and I are practically living on top of each other, along with all of the items that the movers couldn't ship, two plants, and our dog... and I am hormonal... Good Lord, I am hormonal. I feel like I have more hormones running through me than a High School marching band. One minute I'm happy and elated and loving life, the next minute, my husband looks at me and questions who has taken over and possessed his sweet and loving wife. Luckily, I return, cry a little for being a total bitch, and then we laugh about it about an hour later. If we survive, I will nominate my husband for Sainthood. If not, well, I can't blame him.
Regardless of the fact that I am back to living in a tiny space and out of suitcases for a month (or longer), I can't help but feel blessed for the adventures that are thrown into my crazy path called Life. And besides, for me, home is where my love is. Anything else simply falls into the "details" category and I am okay with that.
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