In case anyone’s been wondering, I’ve kept up my “make the bed every day for a month” commitment well beyond October. Hooray for small domestic victories. Of course, Burger has also kept to his part of the bargain and still manages to undo the neatness about an hour later, so the daily reset has become part of our routine. It’s funny how something that sounds small can feel like an achievement when you stick with it.
Looking back, this time last year I was deep into one of the most exhausting projects we’ve tackled here: tearing apart our bathroom for a full renovation. I still remember starting that job shoeless — not my smartest move — and wrestling with tiles, fixtures, and stubborn old caulk. It was genuinely grueling physically, one of those home projects you don’t forget for a long time.
Fast-forward to this weekend, and we’ve entered another type of difficult undertaking: moving. Packing up a home is a different kind of wear — it’s less about sore muscles and more about the emotional labor of saying goodbye to the familiar. With our move now less than ten days away, we’ve begun the steady work of taking things down, sorting, boxing, and making difficult choices about what stays and what goes.
One of the first visible signs of transition has been our patio. We slowly watched it change from a welcoming outdoor space into something almost empty. What used to be a comfortable, lived-in area is now sparse after we sold the patio set during a recent moving sale, since the furniture won’t fit the outdoor space at the new place. Letting go of the pieces that held so many morning coffees and late-night conversations has made the whole process feel more real — and a little sad.
Winter’s arrival hasn’t helped the mood much either. The colder, grayer days make an emptied patio look even more melancholy, as if the house itself is settling in to mourn the changes with us. You don’t always expect seasonal shifts to influence how a move feels, but they really do: bright sunlight would have softened the loss, while the dreariness amplifies it.
We’re trying to balance all of this practical work with a lot of gratitude. Moving is exciting — a fresh start, new rooms to arrange, different light at different times of day. We’re full of anticipation about the possibilities that await in the new place. Still, there’s a very real bittersweetness to closing the door here for the last time. It’s been our backdrop for so many ordinary and special moments, and packing up those memories along with dishes and books is an odd mix of logistical challenge and sentimental letting-go.
Over the next few days you’ll probably see more photos from our packing process: boxes stacked under lamps, labels that make little sense until you unpack, and those odd last-minute decisions about what to donate or keep. We’ll share what’s working, what’s surprisingly difficult, and the small rituals that help us stay sane — like the ritual of making the bed even on moving days, because a tidy space feels like control in a morning of upheaval.
Please wish us luck as we finish the final rounds of preparation. If you’re the sort of person who sends virtual tissues, feel free to send some our way — especially for Sherry, who’s been a bit more sentimental about saying goodbye to this house. We’re really excited about the next chapter, but we also want to honor what we’re leaving behind.
Psst — if you want a snapshot of what the patio looked like right before we left, check out our moving-day photos for a collection of chaotic packing scenes and one very forlorn patio.