The movers have come and gone. There’s a place for almost
everything and nearly everything is in its place. There are still a few boxes in the garage I
haven’t unpacked yet, but I’m not in the mood to deal with them now. It’s so
nice to finally cook in my own kitchen again, to wash clothes in my own laundry
room, and to sleep in my own bed. The
greatest pleasure of all is having my own sewing room. I no longer have to
stash my Janome in a cupboard, my fabric in the dresser, and patterns in the
bottom of a desk. I can’t be certain that I’m more productive with all my
quilting supplies within reach, but it surely feels as though I am. Last week a
large orange moving van did a three-point turn in front of our home before
parking three houses down. Heather saw it and worried. “We’re all done moving,
aren’t we, Mom?”
