Unpacking

Well, two out of three ain't bad.

The china survived a gut-wrenching, potentially devastating fall from inside the top of the U-Haul, when the truck was repositioned to prevent water from an unrelenting downpour from flooding its interior.* All the heavy furniture, which had kept the boxes packed in tight, had been removed, leaving the remainder of the load to shift spectacularly. I heard the crash from inside the house, through the pouring rain. Miraculous, or just really good packing? You decide.

* That was the situation I didn't want to discuss, Carolyn

I finally found the doll, she really should have a name by now, poor thing, after a panicky attempt to remember what box I'd hidden her in. She was fine.

The mattress was a different story. It hadn't been stored properly and the top layer of memory foam forgot where it was supposed to be. The whole section slid into a gigantic, hundred-pound puddle at the bottom of the vertically stored bedding. G and I did some major surgery on it, and managed to get it back into a close approximation of its original state. It still feels great, but I'm pretty sure we voided the twenty year warranty.

I've spent the last three? four? days washing every blanket, sheet, pillow, comforter, dish, pot, glass and piece of furniture that we own, to get rid of the storage grime. I have used an obscene amount of water, but what a treat to do your own laundry! Never thought I'd say that, but it's true. No more cotton-candy scented detergent from the fluff-and-fold at the laundromat; give me Tide Original Scent, please. No more clothes and towels folded the wrong way. No more freaky people, even though that was always half the fun. No more bad easy-listening that you invariably catch yourself singing along to. Every last stick of furniture has been bathed in Murphy's Oil Soap and generously slathered with Old English lemon oil and most of it doesn't look too shabby anymore. Still need to send the rugs out to be done and have the upholstery cleaned and then we're all set.

We've always rolled our eyes at the idea of plant ledges in new homes: What a silly waste of space, we thought. Just the place to load up with fake greenery, colorful jars of pasta and flavored oils that no one will ever eat, cutesy teapots or cookie jars. Dust. Why not build some usable storage into that otherwise wasted space? Oh, how I was mistaken. They are great places for books. This house has ledges in every room, some rooms even have two, and they are now mostly filled with reading material.

Because I'm used to packing ourselves into a really tight space, I don't need all the cabinets this house provides. A capacious kitchen island has become our new school storage. All the girls' books and art supplies fit very nicely and they can work right at the counter once I find some bar stools.

S now has her own room. I think she is experiencing a little remorse at her wish for solitude. She prefers the decor of her old room and laments the fact that her room is not all "pink and cute" like her sisters'. Their room is neither pink, nor cute, just bright and simple. Her room is actually pretty cool. She thinks it's too college-dorm-room-y. She's still got one foot firmly planted in childhood. She'll get over it. Today they all spent most of the day playing with the dollhouse in her room, so she's not lacking company.

Speaking of company, I was hoping to hear from my cousin today, to see if she finalized her plans for a week long visit, next week. I just stayed with her up in Boston a few months back, but she hasn't been down here in about ten years.

And, finally, after signing a one-year lease, G is freaking out about the quality of the neighbors, a largely uneducated, ignorant lot. He's already thinking of where we can move next.