Boxes are stacked halfway to the ceiling in multiple rooms of our home. Mounds of clothes sit folded on various chests of drawers, and toiletries of all manner are strewn across bathroom counters. Every suitcase we own lies on the floor, and curious cats occasionally nose their way in, cozying up between socks, pajamas and bed linens.

No, we’re not planning a rummage sale or a trip around the world. And hell no — we’re not moving. Truth is, back in 2013, when I was dragged (practically kicking and literally screaming) into this house, I vowed the next time I move, it would be in a body bag.

And I meant it.

That was a different time, though, when we moved back home to Slidell following a six-year existential crisis in Mandeville. It was a relatively short stay, one set in motion by my f

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