No more pizza boxes (for a while)

I’m just so happy that our refrigerator doesn’t have some portion of leftover pizza in it.

Six weeks. Six weeks living out of a suitcase, jumping from hotels to rentals and back to hotels. All in all it could have been worse. And, we did land in our own home (the moving truck finally arrived yesterday, after almost a week of “clamping” in our living room).

Six weeks of eating out, ordering delivery, or fumbling through small kitchenettes to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. And pizza… Lord, so much pizza.

Sounds like I’m complaining, right? Sounds like I have no right to complain, as some of this stuff described above sounds like someone else’s dream vacation/staycation?

The root of it all (yes, my complaining) is that we finally are home; we can establish some roots. We plan to be here for the foreseeable future. We’re happy to be back on the west coast, in California, living in the Pacific time zone. We’re happy to be much closer to our family and friends.

And we’re happy to take that break from pizza.

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