When Alex and I first moved into this house we lived out of a suitcase for four months. Literally. We had a giant suitcase on the floor of our bedroom where we kept all our clothes that wouldn't fit into our tiny closets. At the time, I didn't think much of reaching down to the floor every morning in search of a clean tee shirt, but maybe that's because I was relieved not to be living in a hotel anymore. This past Sunday, a feeling of nostalgia washed over me as I watched Alex haul the dresser out of our bedroom to deliver it to a girl who had purchased it from Craigslist. Back to the floor. This time it's Scout and me who've been relegated to suitcase living (Alex and Catcher will be next, however, if we manage to sell our other dresser).
Just like six years ago, I have to admit that I don't mind the whole suitcase-on-the-floor-of-our-bedroom thing. Moving into it forced me to pack up a bunch of clothes I won't need for the next two weeks, and I feel like I accomplished something this weekend. I just hope these walk-in closets I'm dreaming about in Austin are as big as they appear in their pictures, or else it's more suitcase living for us...
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