Moving sucks. As Russians say - oдин переезд как семь пожаров or something like this (after all, I haven't been back to Mother Russia for over eight years). The whole experience is like living in a parallel universe for a couple of days. In this universe you eat pizza for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, use paper cups and plastic forks, and wear same T-shirt two days in a row. In this parallel universe everything is done on the floor - sleeping, eating, watching TV, and even typing this blog, since all the furniture is already in the truck. It's almost like urban camping experience - we sit in a semi-circle in the clearing, on the floor, surrounded by a forest of boxes. Ordinary stuff, like spatulas and silk orchids that stick out of the open boxes throw odd shades on the walls. The TV screen glows softly in the middle, drone of the "talking heads" is cricket-like. Kumbaya, oh Lord, kumbaya...
Until Monday then, boys and girls. Wish us safe passage and попутного ветра.
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And I thought that sleep deprivation ends when a baby gets to be about one year old. Boy, was I wrong! And even when my baby-boy is sound asleep, there's still plenty to keep me up - my hubby, my cat, my work, my house work, Facebook, etc., etc.
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