No, it's not our wedding anniversary. (Unless you're allowed to celebrate seventeen month anniversaries with a whole week of celebrations, but aren't we supposed to be beyond such sappiness at this point?) It's our one-year house anniversary! A year ago today it was -17 degrees and our soon-to-be pastor, his son and son-in-law, a few old friends and all available family members were trotting back and forth across town, moving us from a very crowded and smoky apartment to a house that is only crowded in the closets and where the only smoke comes when dinner boils over.
I was four months pregnant, and still had very little energy. (I think a lot of what I chalked up to morning sickness was really poor air quality--I felt remarkably better once we moved here.) My kitchen was packed up and moved entirely by a sixteen-year-old boy, who did a fantastic job at it. I just laid around and watched all the action for the most part. I also ordered pizza when the work was done.
With the inclement weather of the last month, let us not forget to mention the blessing of an attached garage. Last winter it was such a treacherous business for DOB to get to the car and get it cleaned off that he called me once he was safe inside the car to let me know he wasn't lying bleeding on the ice outside. Sometimes it was half an hour after he left the door that he finally called.
So, hooray for one year in our home, sweet home.
1 comment:
Conratulations. You're brave. I hate moving in the winter.
As I recall, being four months pregnant makes one an automatic expert at ordering pizza. :)
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