I've lived in this house for three years and one week. That's a record for me. Growing up my family moved every two to two and a half years. I guess I was stuck in that mode.

I went to college and transferred to a less expensive one. Went back to the more expensive one. The less expensive one. Back to the more expensive one again, this time in the dorm again. Then out of the dorm again. Summer school in Austin. Summer school in San Antonio. Graduated.

A year and a half as a secretary in Geneva, Switzerland. Then back to Texas. Living with my folks (awk!). One year teaching school on 1960.

Two semesters doing graduate work at Sam Houston State U. Back to my alma mater for a year and a half to finish my masters. Then on to Indiana to start my doctoral program at Purdue. Two years there.

To an old hometown so my husband could go to grad school. Two years in a duplex. Two years in a house. Then we moved to NC. One year in an apt. One year in a townhouse. Then we moved to Austin. Two years in an apt. Two years in a house.

Then we moved to Houston. Three years. I've been in this house three years. I am 41 years old and I've finally lived in the same place for a whole three years.

Too bad this is the first time in my life I have moved anywhere and haven't made friends with anyone right away. Forget right away. If aliens came and took me away, only my husband's bestfriend's family would even notice I was gone.

Anyway, enough of the pity party; I have lived in the same house for three years. The down side to that, which is what got this blog started, is that I have now moved the furniture around often enough that it is in the best place for it and unless I get some new furniture, I will de-optimize its placement if I move it again.