It took 18 hours, 6 trips from old apartment to new, enough boxes to build another apartment, two superhero movers and the whiniest cat you ever did meet (WEAZ), but we did it.

The day before The Move a woman at yoga asked me what I was up to this weekend and I said moving, with a cringe on my face. “Oh! Moving can be so fun if you let it.” She’s right. So I let it.

Granted, I didn’t touch a single item larger or heavier than a box full of books so perhaps things were rougher for Stew and his friend Jason who saved my life by moving the entire thing 30 miles north.

Nevertheless, I had fun with the day. It started way too early at 6am when I talked myself out of taking 3 hours to go to superflow and instead just hit the ground running. I had packed a cute little traveling oat pack for breakfast, which I enjoyed on trip two… or three? Who knows? It’s a blur.

We broke to refuel with Big Daddy’s around 2pm. Again, the day was a blur. I would never wait until 2pm to eat lunch. We were on fire!

Around 9pm it was finally time to make one final trip to round up the cats. It also happened to be time for a ruthless storm to blow through. I assure you I was more traumatized than the cats were. Weaz begs to differ.

Somehow a lifetime later at 1 o’clock in the morning we were all there–Ralph, Weaz, me and all my worldly posessions–and things were starting to come together. Pleased with myself and my progress I plopped down to make a toast.

I had tahini and jam on brown rice bread (because I couldn’t–and still can’t–find my sunflower butter anywhere) and a celebratory glass of some kind of $4 sparkling Spanish wine from Trader Joe’s. Buying it from Trader Joe’s and calling it “sparkling Spanish wine” somehow makes it more ok than drinking Andre.