Bad nails

We moved this week.

It was difficult and painful and all of my fingernails are broken.

I don’t really think that a broken fingernail is a big a deal, but when ALL ten are broken… AND filed down to the skin, that’s different. My hands are dry and rough. I feel like a teenager battling a fingernail biting habit (and loosing).

Bad nails are just one of the pains of moving.

Aside from the bad nails, moving can be very cathartic. It has been. I had to look at every object in my entire house and decide if it was worth moving.

We had a lot of objects that were not worth moving.

Why did I buy all of those nice looking button up shirts for my teenage boys?

Why does my daughter have four boxes of stuffed animals? Maybe I shouldn’t keep buying her stuffed animals.

And Legos…wow, my son has a lot of Legos. Granted, he is the youngest of four boys, but he really does have a ridiculous amount, and yes, we kept them all.

It felt good to get rid of so much stuff. We gave stuff away, we sold some stuff and the rest of it my husband took to the dump.

It is nice starting over. It felt like I took an eraser to my house and my life and now I’m starting fresh.

I don’t have to hang ugly pictures back up. I don’t have to keep that wobbly night stand. And I don’t have to keep anything that reminds me of Mormonism.