Sticking it to me

We moved into our home in Brooklyn one month and two days ago.  It's hard to believe it's only been 33 days here.  Even though I still feel like we're settling in and discovering our neighborhood, I feel like we've been here for months, at least.  We're down to one box in our living space (and it contains Tyler's Xbox, so it being packed isn't such a bad thing- I keep trying to convince him to bring it back to Illinois with us and leave it there...). I have more organizing to do before I'll feel like everything is in its place, but in general, I feel like we live in a home now.  

There is one aspect of our move that continues to make its presence known, however.  Because we used professional movers, every item that went into the truck received a numbered sticker that corresponded to a list of items moved.  These small, yellow stickers seemed harmless enough- they are easily removed and leave no residue or mark, like a Post-It note.

On Tye's trampoline...

On Mico's dog food container...

On Tye's bookshelves...

But they are everywhere.  

On the diaper pail...

On the arm of the rocking chair...

On the vacuum cleaner...

Thirty three days, and still, these stickers haunt me. 

Even when I leave the house.