It’s a grey and miserable day outside. The rain is POURING down in a way totally “vancouver”

And we are in stage 1 of our move.

And it is one of those moments that I love being a woman.

Now, don’t get your knickers in a knot at what I am saying below. I know that as a woman I can be anything I want to be. I am a strong and powerful being, and all that jazz.

But today I have a crick in my neck, and it is cold and wet and horrible out.
And all the gross stuff that wintered outside needs to be moved.

Like the firewood. And outdoor toys, and those crazy bits and pieces you store under the deck for “when you need them”

And the ground is muddy and mucky and gross.

And I am inside, packing up the kitchen cabinets and the bathroom stuff.  I am washing curtains and have my happy music playing as I make cup after cup of tea.

Every now and then my hubby shows up for another load, with his helper by his side, and I bring them snacks. . . being careful to avoid the puddles on the deck so I don’t get my slippers wet.

And I squish up my nose and say “Ohh, looks nasty out there boys” and smile as I toss another log on the fire.

And I know, I “could” be out there helping them, but honestly , I don’t want to be, and I don’t need to be.

These two boys are quite happy being MEN today, hauling gooey gross stuff and being cold and wet.
I am happy being me, a strong, able bodied woman, inside, out of the cold and wrapping glasses carefully before I pack them.

I don’t think this makes me weak.
I think it makes me smart.