I get home from yoga tonight, it seems all hell breaks loose with the animals.

Okay, not all hell, but in my mind — all hell.

My poor darling Stella is not doing well. By this “not doing well” I mean she’s decided to pee all over the place and there’s nothing worse than seeing blood in urine.

I know. I cringed just typing that sentence. I immediately had to wash rugs and other random things, like towels, she had found {how do they find these things anyway and since when do I leave towels out?}.

And then the triple moment after I locked Stella in the bathroom — Bailey, Benny and Minerva all threw up.

I apologize for the oh so pleasant mental images you all must now have. Seriously though, how do three animals all yak at the same time?

More cleaning. More washing. And now I am worried. One more thing to add to my list tomorrow — get Stell to the vet. Just what I need on my semi moving day.

GD. Moving day. My heart is pounding. I need to remind myself to take deep breaths. I’ll make it. When really I want to skip over the next couple days. Maybe weeks.

I’d just like to be at the part where I’m all settled in and everything looks gorgeous and I’ve figured out what the F to do with the space to the left and right of the fireplace.

Right. Because fireplace spaces are just so important right now.

But this is the reformed me. The one who has vowed to “enjoy the process” and “savor” and all that other fluffy crap. That now I’m totally like, to hell with that.

Don’t worry, I’ll snap out of it and come back full circle to my “being present” presentness. I guess it’s just sometimes … happy me really annoys me. Ha. Isn’t that classic. A true representation of the space I’ve been in this week.

I’m feeling off my game, Peeps. Big time. While I’m certain this is normal, it still is frustrating and angering me.

As one of my wise friends said to me tonight à yoga — a lot of this might be related to my move. She’s right. I’m feeling so unsettled — mentally and then with my physical space. Compounded on top of this is leaving Brother and suddenly other family baggage that I didn’t know was lingering.

Family baggage is so sneaky like that. Hanging on in the shadows for that perfect time to pop out and be all, “I’ve got you backed into this dark, ugly corner now.”

Not like I think I have a lot of family baggage, but, hey — keeping it real, People — we all have those bags we’re carrying around. But like with anything else, it’s all in how deal.

Plus sometimes the bags are really small and cute, like a Nordstrom bag and then others are all beat up, falling apart and look like they’re on their last leg.

I prefer the shiny nice looking bags that represent more a buyer’s remorse when you look inside and realize you never even wanted what you just bought and wtf were you thinking in the first place?

So yeah, my whole point here … I’m ready to get into this house. I’m going to peek inside my shiny bag and say F YOU to whatever I find {sometimes a good ‘ol f you is just so perfect and so necessary}, I’m going to probably complain and order The BF and Brother around and drive them crazy, but in the midst of it — I will savor. Enjoy.

I’m not really sure how but I’m going to and GD, it’s going to be great!