House Movers Nc

Ex-North Salem Supervisor Paul Greenwood moves to North Carolina, awaits ...

Home Sweet Home «

I haven’t talked much about our failed plans of moving to North Carolina last year, other than it sucked and we were both pretty depressed and miserable. (I also went a little crazy.) It took a very long time for us to be okay again. To accept the fact that we weren’t going anywhere anytime soon and that St. Louis would be home for the foreseeable future. Don’t get me wrong, St. Louis is a great place to live and raise a family, but I was just…over it. And since my husband isn’t originally from here anyway, he’s always felt like St. Louis was just a temporary home for him. (If temporary equates to more than 10 years now…) It was a bitter pill to swallow. But then, the seasons changed, as seasons tend to do. We went to Maui and reconnected. It was like we were on our honeymoon all over again! But with even more sex! (Ha, that was meant to be funny. Sorry, mom.)

When we returned, our lives became busy, hectic things but every project that was overwhelming us was a project we were doing together. I focused on becoming the wife I wanted to be. The wife I used to be. Good things started happening. We’ve had some not so good things too, like this damn aircast boot that I’m still lugging around, but all in all, life is good. Crazy, busy, messy…but good.

The house continues to be a point of contention, however. Our not-so-great mortgage and plans of refinancing. And with the recent stock market drop and all the financial troubles plaguing our country, we hung our heads on Monday and said to each other, “Well, I guess it’ll be another five years in this house…” Then we returned to our regularly scheduled programming of busy and carried on with our week. Between work, and our side projects, attempting to fix actual dinners each night with side dishes and salad, it’s no surprise that the rest of the house has fallen by the wayside. Dog hair on the floor, dishes in the sink, dirty laundry in random piles and baskets throughout the house…we’re basically well-educated pigs. And when the house is in complete disarray, that’s usually when I hate it the most.

Except I didn’t. And I don’t. Even as I trudged up the stairs, stairs that have little tufts of dog hair tucked into each of the corners, I looked around at the dirty dishes piled in the sink, and the stacks of junk mail scattered about the counter, and the unpacked suitcase from our trip to San Diego last week still sitting on the couch…and then I thought, “I very well may raise children here.” And I smiled as a wave of relief swept over me. It wasn’t a thought tainted by disappointment. It wasn’t a feeling of dread or a long list of things we’d need to change in order to make this house a kid-friendly home. It was excitement and hope and dare I say it, happiness. (And no, I am not pregnant. Just happy to be happy about living here again.) It’s like Bob Marley said. Every little thing is gonna be alright.

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National Parks

North Carolina Lighthouses, Stories of History and Hope

The Southeastern reporter

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