We now have officially moved.
We're still in the same little bit of Paradise, only 3-1/2 or 4 miles from our previous home, depending on whether you take my route or the one favored by SWMBO.
I think we've stopped yelling at each other.
The tears have finally stopped (Judy's mostly, maybe not mine.)
And after a week (actually about a month) we are so beat we decided to call today A Day of Rest and kick back and relax.
And I think we only have 8 or 9 more boxes to unpack.
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To our many friends who have sent condolences and words like "I can't imagine what moving would be like at my age" or the good long-time friend who wrote "I know I'd be happiest leaving this place feet first!", you are all correct.
Moving in our 80's has been one of the hardest things either of us has ever done.
And we had people who did most of the packing for us and a couple of guys who loaded it all into a big truck and then unloaded it in our new home.
When I say we had people that did all of the packing for us I'm not counting the many boxes of "fragile things" and enough wall art to stock a museum that WE (Judy mostly) packed and hauled (me mostly) to the new abode.
But it's over now.
Well it's more like it's a new beginning.
After all there are still those 8 or 9 boxes to unpack.
