And much work and frustrated yelling and slamming of doors has ensued as the boys have been drafted to carry boxed downstairs, clearing out the storage/Hillary's bedroom.
Which only serves to make the mother tired and weepy and, such things.
So here we sit. Lauralea on one computer, and I on another backing up five years of photos, (Don't bother to ask), Thomas eating supper after returning from work, and Micah going upstairs to finish cleaning up his room.
We are waiting for Hillary to phone and say she's in some town about half an hour from here and can we come and pick her up.
So, it's quiet here now, penitent even.
Which is a good thing.