I remember moving when I was about 8 years-old and my mom was super duper pregnant. I can clearly recall her sitting in front of the new house, smiling and calmly directing movers where to put the boxes. Today, I tried to embody that spirit.
Except it was really hard to smile because moving is CRAZY. Chaotic and just insane. This morning Rick and I cleaned out the fridge in our rental house and found a perfectly good bag of unopened Trader Joe’s frozen mushroom risotto. But sadly, we had recently hit a risotto wall and just couldn’t eat any more of the stuff.
“Let’s give it to our neighbors,” I said.
“Let’s throw it away,” Rick countered.
“No, they’ll love it. This stuff is really good. You know, if you haven’t hit a risotto wall,” I insisted.
“Ok, I’ll put it in their mailbox.”
So we did. With no note or explanation. Just a bag of frozen mushroom risotto. I’m sure this is a totally normal thing to do.
We finally got to the new house and the movers started bringing everything in.
Except our box spring mattress.
Because it didn’t fit up the stairs.
So we madly started calling around to try to find a split box spring (it comes in two parts).
First store: $440.
Second store: $320.
Third store: $125.
Although we were a bit fearful that the cheap box spring was made out of cardboard or popsicle sticks, we went ahead and ordered it. And I swear to you, it was at our new house in 45 minutes. A moving miracle.
Once the movers left, we started to unpack. Of course, we easily located my Fine Young Cannibals cassette tape and my vacuum packed bridal gown, but could not find our silverware tray. Forward thinking at its finest.
I’m sure that silverware tray is around here somewhere.
mama bird notes: