It’s a given. Moves never go as planned. You can count on it. Many moves later, and I still haven’t learned my lesson. Here we are, sitting in our new-to-us empty apartment two weeks post move, and I feel compelled to write this post on my slower than molasses, 7 year old, barely breathing laptop. If not for you, for me. Though, I’m never doing another major move again. Our belongings were scheduled to arrive Saturday at the very latest. It’s Monday, and now they’re telling us the truck will, knock on wood, arrive Thursday. Thankfully, the Twin Cities house the nicest people, and a few new friends lent us some goods to get by. Sure, we could go out and buy a couple things in the interim, but since we just purged, acquiring more stuff makes my insides ill. If we could turn back time, we would have mailed ourselves a kitchen care package as we had planned (per the recommendation of a friend). And here’s what we would have packed.

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