Every time I have moved, there has been a moment of Why? Not why am I moving (well that happens too but in this case - not). Let's just get to it.
Moving out of Cuero: Helper - Corrie (and by helper, I mean the person who made it happen) unearths my collection of styrofoam egg cartons hiding atop the refrigerator. I don't know why I kept them, they always seemed on the verge of being helpful. We didn't have internet at home back then or maybe they really could have been.
Moving out of Hillsboro: Among lots of Helpers - Holly asks "Why do you have four jars of peanut butter? And they've all been opened?" (The problem there was that I had a ridiculously skinny pantry that was really deep. I could barely touch the back with one arm stuck in and my head pressing against the jamb. They simply got lost in there.)
Moving in to Houston: (less embarassing this time, or maybe everyone was too nice to mention it) I find no less that three boxes of swiffer wet-jet pads. And yes they've all been opened. I don't know how I ended up with three! One of the boxes got smashed and hidden under the stroller in my trunk. The other two...just wanderers I guess.
Does anyone else have this problem? I don't know why this happens - but I think I'm getting a little better every time.