"I hold on to You for dear life, and you hold me steady as a post..." Psalm 63

Monday, July 26, 2010

Retaining trash...

Well...it's day two after the big move.  {I say BIG because even though I filled a dumpster with all the unnecessary clutter of our home, we still managed to fill this house AND the garage}  After sleeping soundly for the second night in a row- IN MY PARENTS' {old} ROOM, NO LESS- I woke WITHOUT AN ALARM {Alex is housesitting elsewhere-no 6am wake-up call!} to the most peaceful morning I've enjoyed in MONTHS...there were no deadlines to meet, no errands that couldn't wait, and no one outside of this house needed me.  There are stacks and stacks of boxes that need attention, but even that didn't bother me.  I started my morning with a cup of coffee and some good reading on the back porch swing. {Also a little strange, because I remember my mom doing this in the very same spot}

{Sidebar...if you haven't already caught on, this moving back to the house I grew up in is taking a little getting used to.  I lived here for about 10 years when I was growing up, but I haven't lived here for 20 years...and even though it's all so familiar, it still feels so foreign.  It's like seeing your best friend from grade school 20 years after puberty.  The old friend is still there, but yet not.   The other night my nephew made the whole family dinner and my parents actually stood at the front door and rang the doorbell!  They wanted to be the first to ring it...but it was just so weird-usually they are on the INside!  Mom and dad thought it was a little strange too, seeing all the same cars in the driveway...almost as if the house hadn't actually sat empty for 1 1/2 years waiting for us.  It's all going to take some getting used to.  I'm sleeping in my parents old room...tell me THAT'S not just a little creepy! 
 My sister says, "at least you weren't conceived there"...shudder.....}

ANYway....each day has been more productive than the last, and by this evening, almost all of the boxes are outside in the garage.  There's still ALOT left to do, but I'm seeing progress.  But, this morning...before anything serious got underway there was another task that needed some attention.  In short, it involved a 16 year old boy, a 2 month old set of retainers, a lunch plate from about a week ago, and 7 garbage bags.  After being informed that he'd accumulate the cost of replacing them, Nick's day started like THIS:
Luckily it only took till the second bag....
This is where it is right now...
he's still trying to decide if he can muster up enough strength to put it in his mouth...week old trash is unspeakable, but even more so when you find pieces of week old spaghetti wrapped up around your retainer.  The orthodontist suggested we buy THIS:
We'll see about that. I say hot soapy water, a good brushing and a long night's sleep should help to erase the trauma of smelling week old food.  I'm counting on it anyway.

Things are rarely dull around here.  It's too bad, I'm rather fond of dull.

3 comments:

Mrs.Rabe said...

You know I love that house...I think you should let me come over and see it once you are all settled in...:)

I laughed at Tami's comment about you not being conceived in that bedroom! You girls are funny!

I am so glad you have made the move...did Emma get the big bedroom?

Jeane` said...

I was truly laughing out loud regarding the 'parent's old bedroom' situation. HYSTERICAL. It was nice of Tammy to reassure you like that. Besides, our parents would never actually do the dirty deed for any other purpose than procreation. It just wouldn't be very Christian. No...never. So there, rest easy(er). ;)

Anyhoo...and the retainer struck a chord with me too. How many, many times I did that very thing...

FUN post...thanks for the laugh!
(and we moved into my mother's childhood home when I was around 15 and it was weird for all parties as well!)

Christine said...

Can't wait to visit...you have plenty of time to get things in order for that though...unfortunately! Glad the move is made and life can begin to settle a little now.

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