Sometimes things fall apart.
It happens to everyone–or at least most people–at some point. And recently, things fell apart for me. Without getting into too many details, through no fault of our own, we have been forced to leave our home for an indefinite amount of time (at least several months). The emergency happened in the middle of the night: Scott and I picked up our baby, grabbed the carrier and a blanket, and left. We called my parents, who had just moved into their new place (which was, of course, a cardboard canyon of moving boxes) and joined them. To make things worse, we were also in the midst of moving. In fact, our offer on a new place had been accepted that very day and we were in a celebratory mood.