A Move of Epic Proportions

I am beginning to enter a new phase in my life. An Epic Phase. At the ripe age of thirty-*mumble*, as a single mother of 3, I am returning to the nest. Yes, dear friends, I am moving back home... to my *gulp* mother's house. What on earth am I thinking?? The proposition of this has been explored before. Ok, by explore I mean it was mentioned and I quickly dismissed it. Who wants to give up their independence and move back in with their mother?? I mean really?

It all comes down to this. With the economy the way it is (and I throw blame to no one because I HATE politics) I can barely afford to pay my bills. My mother, as well as the majority of the population, is in a similar situation. So, the obvious choice is for us to combine our finances/expenses.

Now, I have lived on my own the majority of my adult life. Ok, except for a few periods of getting started, going through divorce, re-starting, etc. But, this apartment that I am in now, I have lived in for about 15 years. That's a long time. And speaking of a long time... a lot of CRAP to now go through, sort and completely downsize. I'll be moving into an attic space that we are going to transform into a mini apartment, minus the kitchen, shower, etc. So, there will be minimal space. Talk about simplifying one's life, huh?

I am giving myself (and my current landlord, although I haven't told him yet) about a month and a half to accomplish this epic feat. Sort, trash, yard sale, donate, pack, move. So, if anyone would like to come help (i.e. sort, trash, yard sale, donate, pack, move) feel free to come by. I'll be more than happy to pay in household items and/or furniture. *cheesy grin*

If I can make it through the next couple of months, it will all be worth it.

Now, I just have to figure out how to get the man child to realize that downsizing does not mean throw EVERYTHING out. It actually surprises me that he's being that way since he can't seem to walk five feet to put actual trash in the trash can. Go figure.

And on the opposite end of the spectrum, the daughter wants to keep EVERYTHING. Including the 4 garbage bags of stuffed animals hiding under the bed. I mean, yes, she'll be getting her own room, which is exciting for her, but... the child must learn moderation. Right? I don't think I'll mention the 5 other bags of stuffed animals hanging in the basement. *shifty look*

I'm looking forward to finalizing all of this. Painting. Decorating. Actually saving money in the end. This is a good thing. I hope.