The house

One year ago this week, we moved into our new house. The search was rather sudden, the success quick and easy. The house itself, a disaster. Black carpet (that upon removal turned out to have once been white -EWW). Cracks and holes in the walls. Rotten cabinets in the kitchen. Missing/broken fixtures. Crazy silver paint in the weirdest places - like the grout on the fireplace hearth tiles.

Moving week was insane - one day I noticed my engagement ring was not on my finger - I had the plumber in to vacuum the drains, we tossed the house, we finally unpacked the already packed boxes and found it had slipped of my finger! Thanks heavens we found it...

My in-laws showed up one day to help. Did I mention I did not know they were coming? Their son was not even home; one of his brothers decided to "return" all the loaner furniture that had once been Andy's on the same day. Really? In the middle of an impromptu moving day? Without asking? We had planned to hire movers - my vision had been of movers placing carefully packed boxes in the correct rooms. Instead, contrary to repeated requests, things were tossed haphardly into unlabeled boxed (not by me), and stacked wherever (also, not me). My husband still has not found his Army ring and his watches.

Do I sound ungrateful for the help? I am not. It is just that sometimes help is not actually helpful unless it is what the helpee asks the helper to do. Just food for thought.

Back to the house...

We started joyfully to paint our daughters room, which we had dreamed of for so long, and planned so carefully, only to have my MIL have a breakdown and guilt her son into coming over to her house instead because, well, you have to know my MIL. Just because. Which he did. I almost moved right back out that night.

But, the moving in progressed. Before we took residence, we had a break-in - loss included a DVD player (and the enclosed Ariel movie - crisis!) and my laser level. I have an almost man-like affection for my tools and a sentimental attachment that is distinctly girlie, based on the giver of the gift of each tool... so as disturbing as the violation of the sanctity of my new home was, the girl and I still have angst over our loss...

As the days turned into weeks, and we finally locked the door on our rental for the last time, we moved into our freshly-carpeted, professionally cleaned, mishmashed baxes stacked everywhere, and began the rest of our lives together...

Then the pipes in the laundry burst... story for another day. :)