A week ago, I was on an airplane flying to LA from Amsterdam.
After a weekend of wedding shenanigans, I finally landed back in Austin on Monday at midnight.
Tuesday, I closed on my new house. A friend who I am exceptionally grateful for helped be excited for me when I was too tired to find my own enthusiasm brought over champagne and we assembled a couch.
Wednesday, I moved all my stuff (and went wakesurfing but there were storms so truly just went boating). And assembled my bed (with some help from a wakesurfer) and slept in my new house.
Thursday, I started to unpack. And did the stock-up-at-Walmart-run that’s an integral part of moving.
Which brings us to today; today, as I look back at the week, all I can think or say is holy shit.
I am grateful to my parents for all their help this week, I am so grateful the timing magically worked out where I got to move into a gorgeous house next door to my brother, I am so grateful Nali gets a backyard where she can go hide behind sheds and under bushes because that’s how she’s used it so far, but also for barking at other dogs walking by, and I’m grateful she seems to be really happy here, as if she’s somehow returning home—when she’s not hiding in my walk-in closet, that is.
I am so grateful.
And exhausted.