Hey y'all -
The day after I got back from my week-long trip to Vermont, Peg Peg, Tex and Granny Jack arrived for a ten-day visit to help us unpack and get the house together.
We love the new house, don't get me wrong, but it has far less storage space than the old one. Apparently, in 1941 when this house was built, people didn't have stuff. And if you don't have stuff, then you don't need closets. The end. If only those selfish people who built this house had thought to themselves, "Seventy two years from now, Brooke is going to move into this house with a crapload of Tupperware and stand mixer attachments and bed sheets for every season." We're slowly but surely figuring it out, but those first few days that my relations were here were tough:
"Brooke, where do these glasses go?"
"I don't know."
"Where do these books go?"
"I don't know."
"Where should we put these toys?"
"I don't know."
"Where should I - "
"In the trash."
Like all Southerners, my family seems allergic to clean mountain air, so everyone got sick with some kind of allergy thing the same day they rolled into town. Granny Jack was hit hardest, but soon everyone was looking at their watches to see when they could take their next dose of Benadryl. My secret theory is that Granny Jack is allergic to disorganization and mayhem, and it manifested itself as a bad chest cold.
On Day 2, I decided my REAL problem was that the kitchen cabinets are too small, so they'd need to go. Thor and Tex got to work building me some new ones, and we took the old ones down. Now all my kitchen stuff was perched on the dining room table awaiting a home while serious construction started in the backyard.
And since that wasn't enough chaos, I said, "Let's invite Brooke and Todd and Cedar and Fisher over for dinner!"
And that's when The Other Brooke took all of these pictures:
One day, it'll all come together. It has to.
Love,
Mom
No comments:
Post a Comment