That awkward moment when you have to move. Again.

Alright guys. Here's a story about how much life sucks sometimes. But then, it's also a story about flexibility and... exciting twists and turns? (check out that positive attitude right there).

About a week before I left Newport to come to Savannah this year, I got a dreadfully disconcerting phone call from my favorite roommate named Claire about how our house may or may not be going into foreclosure.

"But don't worry," She said, "the owner has just been in and out of the hospital for months and that's why she's behind on her payments."

How comforting.

So we moved in. Pictures were hung. Blog posts were made. There were oohs. There were ahhs. And our house was flawless. Except for the fact that every 5 days or so, we would get very official looking mail explaining that our house had been sold and we had to be out in 90 days. Or else!

Making the 100% wise and adult decision, we decided to just ignore the problem until it went away. Unfortunately, it seems that large corporations like Freddie Mac who buy foreclosed homes, such as ours, don't take too kindly to being ignored. And the fact that we are just five studious, hard working, adorable college girls just trying to get by in this big bad world means nothing to these heartless bastards. Come on. Do we really have to move? But we love it here!

After lots of unreturned phone calls and tons of legal jargon-y e-mails (thanks, Mr. Barnhardt!) it was discovered that yes, we do have to move. And yes, we really do only have 90 days. I know. I'm devastated too.

So, it got me thinking. Is it me? Was it something I said? You know how some people believe that they sort of have a cloud of bad luck that follows them around everywhere they go? Well, maybe I have a moving van that drives about 100 yards behind me and waits around every corner. Perhaps this moving van followed me all the way from California to Georgia and is now infecting my roommates as well. They didn't ask for this!

Immediately, I went into moving overdrive mode and the thought of looking for a place to live, that fits five people, that's within our budget, that's in a safe area, and that we even like for that matter completely consumed me. I voluntarily took the weight of the responsibility on my shoulders and began to majorly stress. The behavior I have taught myself to take ever since I was a little kid moving from house to house was starting to take over and by Thursday of last week, I was quickly letting go of the attachment that I had already grown to this house to make room for the fun, new and exciting opportunity of a new home/adventure.

But I did not take my roommates into consideration.

It dawned on me that not everyone was on the same timeline as I was on Friday afternoon (yes, the same day I posted this-- talk about being oblivious to the feelings of those around you!) when, after only 2 days of looking, we were standing in the kitchen of a house we'd found and I was ready to sign a rental agreement while two of my roomies were on the verge of tears. Hmm. Wake up, Julia. Sensitivity calls. Practicality can wait.

Eventually, we all got on the same page. Thank heavens. And after a two hour leisure cruise with all of the girls, snaking the streets of Savannah while playing an intense game of "Eye Spy with my Little Eye a FOR RENT Sign," we came up with some pretty solid leads. One in particular. By the end of this week, we will hopefully know more. But in the meantime, keep us in your prayers that this transition goes well and that we are able to embrace whatever/wherever our new home may be with hearts of gratitude and excitement.