I hit a giant wall on Sunday in my unpacking. I just -- stopped. I'm worn out. I've been sitting in the red rocking chair a lot, sharing the tv with the Noodle (Curious George vs. HGTV) and trying not to judge myself too harshly. 

Moving twice in eight months is a lot to coordinate and navigate already; knowing this house is temporary (because it is not ours) halts my motivation fairly regularly. I find myself questioning every box: "Do I really need to unpack this? If I don't, where will I put it? If I do, where will I put what's inside?"

I did manage to make dinner though.

Hello crockpot chicken tacos.

I've got my desk somewhat set up. 

Isn't the early evening light dreamy?