We are finally somewhat settled. And by somewhat I mean, there is a clear path from our bedroom to the bathroom and to the kitchen where the wine lives. If we are reasonably awake or sober- a small obstacle course around a few large balancing on the brink of destruction boxes and over a sharp cornered book shelf, a book shelf that has left many a bruise on my thighs this week, is all that is between our tired asses and two clear spots on the sofa. This is especially dangerous to The Man if he happens to be streaking through the house after a shower. I don’t know why we want to sit there, though, we can only see the top portion of the 56″ t.v. because the bottom half has junk our valuable possessions piled in front of it. Which makes porn viewing exceedingly unexciting because all you can see is the cheap whore house red taffeta curtains and the top of some chicks head on the screen. Well, I think that’s what you would see because we wouldn’t be watching porn. Not on that t.v.
We are having a blast though. Truly. Well, after we adjusted to the 105 sun gone super nova temperatures at 9:30 in the morning. That was not fun- it is still not fun. It is currently 106 and I am not leaving the house until someone invents an all body cooler or the sun explodes. Now that we are back amongst the living- and not missing the mayhem of too big for its own good Austin- we are settling in nicely. So nicely in fact I had a positively out-of-body neighborhood experience last night- if I were religious- I would swear to you that Jesus set the whole thing up to prove that Small Town is the best town to live in. It started with the piano tuner across the street. He and his adorable blonde headed troop of three daughters knocked on the door and presented us with a chorus of “welcome to the neighborhood”, cards made by the girlies and a plate absolutely to die for delicious home-made brownies.
|The plate was full- we had to eat a couple to be nice.
And then breakfast happened today.
Then I was out watering the lawn because we realized it was our day this week to water. I see our next door neighbor, we meet, and stand there chatting as if we grew up together. We decided that since we both looked like a mess at that time- that we get a pass to always look like a mess with no questions asked. I knew I would like her because she had a cold beer in her hand. So did I. As the sun began to drop and the wind cooled, the cicada started chirping. I haven’t heard that music in forever- and even though we had to talk loudly to hear over them- the cicada calls were enjoyable and welcome. You won’t believe what was next- the piano tuner starts playing his banjo on the front porch and another neighbor walks over to join him. Can you believe that miracle? Neighbors actually talking to each other and bringing baked goods over just because? Holy shit- this really does still happen in America! It’s so perfect there is no way my twisted mind could make it up- I do declare I love this place! Where the hell is Norman Rockwell when you need him to sketch a picture!