Moving should be an Olympic sport. We have been in our house now for a little over a week. We have had several close calls which would hinder us from ever moving again. We have been so busy unpacking boxes and hanging pictures that it just had not really dawned on me that this coming Sunday was Easter. We had one more box left in the guest room that had not been opened and when I did open it, there was all my Easter decorations. Several of them looked brand new to me. Randy accused me of making a last minute stop at Home Goods before the movers packed up the boxes back in California. Trying to empty boxes, we both have dropped into bed at night so sore we couldn’t reach up to turn out the light. We were so excited that out of a hundred or more boxes we found only 3 items that broke.
If we weren’t so old, we would think about going into the packing business, as we are getting pretty good at it, Well, other than the near death accidents. But we also have realized that we are burning calories in new ways other than just walking back and forth from the fridge. We have rewarded ourselves several times for all the hard work with ice cream, chocolate cake and two bags of cookies. Today both of us were in the bathtub. We weren’t taking a bath, we were trying to hang a 3′ by 5′ picture. While I had climbed on the step stool in the tub, Randy was trying to get between the shower glass and the picture. He fell and I started laughing so hard I dropped the picture. After several attempts to find the wire, we finally succeeded. We then moved on to the bedroom where we needed to hang the tapestry over the bed. Randy tells me that he’s got this, no problem. So he climbs onto the bed and begins to measure where the nail will go. Instead of moving all the pillows that I think make the bed look “chic”, he decides to use them to his benefit and uses them as his “ladder”. While he is trying to measure where the tapestry rod will go, his foot slips between the pillows ad he falls back on the bed, holding the hammer, almost hitting his head with it. I told him not to move that I would go downstairs and get the foot stool. When I came downstairs, I go to the pantry to get the stool, knocking over a glass dish that I hadn’t put up well and glass shatters all over the floor. I yell up to him that it will be a minute because I am sweeping up glass, but not before picking out several pieces out of my foot, I had come downstairs barefoot. We have come to the conclusion that we feel that our house is decorated enough. We want to live a few more years. The few unopened boxes out in the garage can stay there for awhile. Maybe I will “forget” to put the garage door down one night and someone will steal them. We are now sitting with a bottle of Advil and a box of bandaids beside us and going over our Retirement budget. We think that maybe the grandkids can do without Christmas presents the next couple of years so we can afford to hire someone to do all the hanging next time we move in two years. Maybe all our cuts and bruises will be healed by then.
