Tuesday, September 6, 2016


Not feeling well this morning, I decided I must stay at home and rest. (cough, sniff) The maintenance man working in the apartment above me, thought otherwise. That has to be the squeakiest floor I have ever lived under. And the building shakes when anyone walks up the stairs.

Laying in bed trying to go back to sleep, I thought about all the places I have lived, and how many times I have moved.

I have moved 32 times in my 58 years, anywhere from 5 blocks to 1400 miles. The reasons for moving have varied, but mainly because of job. Luckily, I have never had to live in a cardboard box, or my car.

Here is the count:

House - 17
Mobile home - 4
Apartment - 5
Rented room - 2
Travel trailer - 1
Boat - 2

Aiden's first day fishing, and he
got to drive the boat home! 
In the last few years, I have discovered that I am a nester, and I have to live in a place that feels like it is MINE. My space. And if I put something on a wall or shelf, it has to have meaning to me. I have two paintings from my son, and one from my daughter. Everything in my apartment, has a memory that goes with it, and that's what makes it HOME.

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