As I most certainly mentioned like 7 trillion times, I’m moving. Just moved. I’m in my new cozy little duplex and making myself right at home with a billion and 12 boxes full of stuff, half of which I will probably donate after I get it sorted out because I have no room for so much stuff and no desire to live like I’m in an episode of hoarders.

No, I’ve never seen that show. But from the shuddering looks on faces of friends as they tell me about the show I’m sure I have an idea. And I don’t want that. What I want is to unpack all these boxes and live in peace and harmony with my one girl, two cats, and one fish. And a martini. Or if this heat wave continues a margarita or two.

So it would seem natural that I would spend this weekend at my new place getting unpacked and settled in, right? Right.

So that’s not what we did.

Instead I unpacked just enough to pack up a suitcase for myself and one for the kid to head up to Washington with my entire family on my dad’s side for my baby cousin’s wedding. And while it was a wedding, a lovely wedding at that, it also served as a family reunion for our little clan.

And I was really looking forward to it. To attending my cousin’s wedding. To my daughter being her flower girl. To seeing my family.

Until I found my duplex a couple of weeks before the date and immediately packed up and moved finding myself in total home insanity. But we persevere. I felt like this was an important trip so we stuck to the plan. And I was good with it.  And good about it. Until we were walking out the door to hop in the car with my parents to drive up there and at the last minute my dad reminded me that the hotel at which we were staying has a pool.

Actually, he didn’t remind me. He didn’t tell me. He just asked if we packed our swimsuits and I stared at him for a moment completely puzzled as though he were speaking some long forgotten language.

Then I freaked the fuck out. It took a few moments for the freak out to set in, but when it did I’m sure it was something to behold. I sent my kid to grab her swimsuit which I’d carefully put away for easy locating the first day we moved in, it’s summer after all.  Then I headed to my room to find one of my own seldom used suits…

I’m sure I don’t have to tell you what happened. You can guess right? It shouldn’t be hard to figure out that with the billion and 12 boxes. I had no idea where my suit might be. I looked in every drawer. Checked labels on unpacked boxes. Dug through half unpacked boxes. Riffled through my drawers again. Looked in purses and bags (I don’t know why I did that, don’t ask).

There was no suit to be found and we were on a tight schedule so my dad did what dads often do when their little girl has a meltdown over something ridiculous and shuts the door to her room explaining that she just needs a moment. He told me he would buy me a new suit on our way if I’d get in the car so we could get where we’re going on time.

Oh.

So I got in the car and we headed up to Seattle for a wedding and I spent a few hours with carefully pinned hair, makeup, and in a lovely dress. The rest of the weekend I spent in a bikini in the pool slathered in sunblock doing my very best to forget about every little thing that was piling up outside the pool far away at home. It was so relaxing I even forgot about the stress of swimsuit shopping.

That bikini may have been the best $35.98 (plus tax) my parents have ever spent on me.