Our new house will be here before our storage building. That means rather than a month, we have a week or two. We are pushing to get things done, but we can only go so far before hitting a snag, finding out we don't have the help we thought we were getting, or discovering we must revamp our plans.
We found someone who wants to buy part of the old house. The house movers came out yesterday to verify if the house could actually be moved. Yes, it can, and yes, moving the house is the only way to save it. Now we have to coordinate movers and buyers. Providing of course, it's not going to be so ungodly expensive to move the house to another county.
The kitchen has to come down so we'll have room for the trailer. A preacher has a cowboy church and is looking for old lumber and buildings so his church can have a rustic look. Will told him if he helps us tear down the kitchen he can have all the lumber. So now we have to wait for the preacher to show up to see if he even wants the lumber, then we have to wait for him to come back with church members to do the work.
Meanwhile, the yard is a mess and we've got to move Will's various mechanical projects so we'll have room to maneuver the trailer in place. We have to move lawn mowers, engines, ATV's, engine lifts, and scrap metal, and then we have to cut the grass and kill kudzu.
And I still have to pack.
Timing is everything. Do it all too soon and we have no kitchen and no bathroom so we would be camping here and eating all our meals next door. I despise camping. Actually, I despise moving. I hate packing up my things. I don't like having to rely on others. I especially don't like trying to struggle to cook in my mother-in-law's cluttered kitchen and I really don't like having to depend on her to feed us because that has never worked in my favor. It would be really nice if we tore down the kitchen and our house arrived the next day, but that's like a one in a million shot.
I have to get back to work. I have boxes to fill.