... and more about how neurotic I am.
It just hit me tonight that my parents are going to be in our house next week. My parents: Stephan's in-laws. We've lived here for about 9 months now, and still have a lot to unpack. There are entire rooms that we've never been in... until today.
Stephan spent the entire day digging his way to the back of the second bedroom that's in the basement. He pulled up old carpet, threw away moldy drywall, and reinstalled pallettes so that the furniture he found in the garage will sit just off of the floor if it ever floods again.
I began looking around at all the other things I've stopped seeing- like the crusted-on burned-ness under the burners of the stove. The flaking paint around the kitchen window. The dog hair that just never goes away, no matter how much ends up in the garbage.
Not that my parents will actually care about any of this. It's just that this is the first place that I've lived that's an actual house [disregarding some past residences that were much more like experiments than actual homes]. This is the first time I've moved so far away, and set up life in a way that's a little unconventional. I lived their way for 18 years, and my way for 10. I'm just a little nervous to show them what I've made of it.
Me: Is this ok?
Him: Yes.
Me: Is it too whiny?
Him: No, but you should add something.
Me: What?
Him: How wonderful your husband is.
Me: Dork.
1 comment:
Anna, just to let you in on a little secret: the ONLY time people really clean up the place is when other people are coming over. Don't worry about it, you know that if I see something that needs to be cleaned, moved, painted, rearranged, dusted, washed, rearranged, scraped, raked, rearranged, folded, ironed, rearranged...
xxMom
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