So we totally live in Austin now. Why the heck does the water taste like burnt rubber?! I mean, it's supposed to be so pretty and natural, etc, but man...that's some nasty, nasty water.
The move went better than I expected. The last time KB and I made a move without assistance from friends was moving her entire third floor apartment into my third floor apartment on the other side of Houston about a month before we got married. It was a bit fraught, to say the least. Since then we've both admitted to sharing the same thought at different points in the day. "Well, this is it. I'm moving (his/her) stuff, but then leaving (him/her) on a curb somewhere." Lessons learned? 1) Hire movers, and 2) Eat lunch, for crying out loud. We both get cranky if we're a little too hungry. I like to think that my heroic build and mirth are directly related, so pass the cupcakes he said joyfully.
Our new house is fantastic, and we can't wait for people to come visit. You know who you are. Heck, you're probably reading this. Both of you. It's weird to think that it took KB going to seminary for us to get a bigger, better house. That seems entirely incongruous, but then again, when have we ever done things in a predictable fashion?
One of the funnier parts of moving was getting boxes out of the attic. Okay, maybe not the actual act of getting in the attic to retrieve them (that was terrifying; the attic on 22nd is like the boiler from Home Alone), but seeing the treasure trove of things we stored up there. An entire library of CD's and DVDs, at least one wedding present, pictures galore from ages past, and a lot of great memories. We got rid of a lot (a lot) and kept a lot. I was suprised at how simultaneously cathartic and costive (emotionally speaking, of course) going through the attic turned out to be. On the one had, it was the lifting of a burden about things we had stoed up there, but at the same time a reminder of things we may have tried to forget. I imagine it's the same way with any great purgation of things; we imbue our treasure with so much emotion and connect them to so many memories that ridding ourselves of them or even just going through them can open the floodgates. If one were in seminary, this would be the opportune time to insert a small homily about storing up treasures in Heaven. However, since one is not...
I really wanted to take a picture of KB standing on the porch holding her lunchbox with both hands for her first day of school. She gave me a withering look and told me to go back to bed. That's good wifin', y'all.
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