My first night in the little house. I just cleared enough sitting space on the couch, plugged in my laptop, and lit some candles and settled in. (This place smells musty, my Mom said as she walked through earlier.) Millie's asleep on the wood floor -at my feet, of course - after a long, nervous day. We're both exhausted.
You know, Martha Stewart says that whenever you move, you should have a first box. She doesn't actually call it a "first box"... that's my term... but that's what it is: the first box you unpack. Ideally, it should contain the first things you may need upon arriving at your new place. Um... things like light bulbs. Scissors. Soap and towel. Box cutter. Alarm clock. Clorox wipes. Whatever. I had my first box, of sorts, but it was all wrong. What I really needed was: (1) a dog net for the three pit bulls that dug under my backyard fence to get to an already apprehensive little Millie; (2) a t-shirt that says "I have a boyfriend and he can beat you up" to dissuade Leonard, the city's dog catcher, who came to help and didn't leave before giving me his cell phone number and inviting himself back later; (3) a sledge hammer - don't ask; (4) Liquid Drano, and (5) a wine bottle opener. That is what my first box needed. Martha, my box and Millie and I needed you today. Where were you?
So. I have so much to show and tell you about the little house. It's located in Wake Village, which I think is a lovely thing to call a place. The house has wooden floors and straightforward rooms and just needs someone to pull it all together and make it wonderful. (And paper the closets and pantry. Thanks for your suggestions on wallpaper, by the way. I'm going to try to get each of the three papers as finances allow. We'll see....)
Before we get to all that, some sleep is in order. That one-eye-open, what-was-that-sound?, I'm-nervous-in-a-new-place, I-hope-they-don't-call-this-Wake Village-for-a-reason kind of sleep.
Goodnight. I think. -Brin