Sigh.
What a weekend it has been.
I don't know why I didn't blog about this sooner, maybe I was just waiting for something more tangible. Anyways, about a week and a half ago now...
*drum-roll please*
We got occupancy on our house! (Finally)
My dad had fired the contractor two days prior, so it was doubley awesome. In my cynicism, I'm convinced that had he not fired the guy, we'd still be in the rental til April (at least).
That being said, I spent my day off Friday hauling box after box across the street and up the stairs to my new room. I had most of my room in the other house by the time I had to go to my first worship practice since December.
The following morning I woke up for work, switched on my overhead light and the last bulb (out of four) burnt out. I saw that as the sign that it was the day to move the bed. Last night I became the first to spend the night in "The Steamboat" (something I've semi-affectionately deemed the house).
Sitting here now, besides feeling exhausted, spent, and sore; I do kind of get a sense of home. It's bizarre moving back into my childhood home after a two-and-a-half year span of absence. Even though my room is the only one that looks wholly furnished and occupied, I imagine walking downstairs and finding everything just as I left it so many years ago.
We're still a long ways away from being completely moved in. Like a long, long ways in a faraway galaxy. It doesn't really help that only two people so far have done all the moving. I won't name names, but The Brunettes kick ass in working hard.
Know who else kicks ass? David, the guy doing our closets. He just works. I appreciate that. I wish he had been doing this whole job. We might have made it in by the first estimated date, third at the latest.
Alas, the outdated system that is daylight savings is getting the best of my mental faculties. And it'll get the best of my sleep when I have to get up for work. Curse you, rural farming communities who decided to set up our national time keeping system!
Buenas noches mis fajitas.
1 comment:
I AM NOT YOUR FAJITA!
and HELL FREAKIN YEAH about moving back into your house. POR FIN. Can I come help this week? I'm a brunette...does that pre-qualify me as a hard worker?
(don't ask Heather that question.)
(I may be your fajita. sometimes.)
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