One week ago we had just pulled up to our new home in Orlando. Over the course of seven days, we've unpacked 95% of the boxes, painted the dining room, living room, hallways, kitchen, and office, and stripped and refinished a coffee table (it was previously traffic sign yellow - not the antique yellow I had requested). We have organized closets and furniture. The chainsaw has chewed down enough trees that I'm pretty sure our neighbors to the north are a little upset with us for taking away part of their view. Three toilets (yep - all three) have been fixed, and a new pool pump and garbage disposal have been ordered. In the midst of all of that, we have fielded about 30 phone calls from companies who are super happy to welcome us to the neighborhood and would like to sell us a newspaper subscription or security system or water testing. Most importantly, the trampoline is assembled.
There's still a lot to do - more rooms to paint, pictures to hang, rooms to organize, a yard to tame. I can't help feeling like I am squatting in someone else's house and at any moment they will return and demand to know what we are doing here. If they do, I hope they like the paint job. I know I do.