I made my final trek to the west side of town to my home on Bristlecone on Tuesday evening.
The couple leasing it from us will move in and take over this weekend and we had to move out our final pieces of furniture, a task that I was not looking forward to. Not because I was sad about leaving, but because I know my husband and his strengths and weaknesses when it comes to me and helping him in regards to the moving process. His strength is literally his strength. His muscles. His weakness is having a weenie for a wife who can barely make it five steps with a piece of furniture without asking for a breather.
His patience wears thin with me.
Luckily (said with sarcasm) we only had a bookcase, a desk and a dresser to move that were on the ‘heavy’ side. We loaded those into the back of the Tahoe, put his garage TV (yes, he had a TV specifically for the garage – wow… ) in my car, took down the pretty green wreath that has been hanging on our door since March and removed my two Pottery Barn lanterns from the front steps. The only other womanly task I needed to accomplish while I was there was to take down the pretty floral shower curtain from the guest bathroom.
As I tried to figure out how the heck to get this shower curtain down in a somewhat easy and graceful fashion, a flood of memories from the past year raced through my mind.
Moving in, throwing away the numerous beer bottle collection that the previous tenants (aka Matt and his buddies) had thought was cool decoration, painting, spending my final night as a ‘Hills’ with my brother, sister and Bob, living with no curtains… in any room … for an entire year, our first Christmas tree, my spillage of hot pink nail polish in the guest bathroom, the finishing of the basement (or as I like to call it ‘The Greatest Test of a First Year Marriage), guests having to sleep on an air mattress rather than a real bed… until my brother moved to Texas and we got a roommate who demanded an actual bed… so she got her brother’s, our summer roommate, the haunted garage door that mysteriously would open after I left for work in the mornings (Matt thinks I just forgot to close it, but I can assure you that was not the case), the invasion of the ants and spiders,the invasion of Bob, Michael’s 26th Birthday Celebration slash “Build us a Fence on your Birthday, Michael”, my attempts at cooking (which happened rarely), seasonal decorating, the burning smell coming from the vacuum cleaner that never really seemed to go away, Wrigley’s morning greeting at the top step of the garage, and many more.
After a quick reminisce of the past year in my head, Matt came in to try and help me with the shower curtain. After we got it down and I started to fold it up, we both looked at each other (sounds like I’m writing a Harlequin romance right about now!) and just hugged… and I boohooed.
We made it through our first year of marriage in this house. Through all the ups and downs, it was still our place to come home to. And as my parents repeatedly reminded me, what a nice home to come home to! Apparently they lived in a teeny, tiny apartment above the bank in Sedan.
Matt and I decided we needed to take one final picture before me exited the house and why not in front of our ‘House of Clark’ sign! 😉
After many, many, many tries, this was as good as we could get. Please ignore my face – I had worked out, moved furniture and cried in the span of two hours. And ofcourse my husband can look cute after doing just about anything… how annoying!
Matt took down the sign…
And locked up the doors. Closed the haunted garage door. And stepped back to look at the house one more time.
Cheers to our home on Bristlecone, for the great first year of memories, and to the new family about to move in and make new memories.
I hope they don’t notice the leftover hot pink nail polish that never quite came off of the floor… 🙂