Alabama Tracks

This weekend we finished a three stage move. Stage one involved the removal of our beloved futon. Had we the room it would have stayed. Even my former roommate would have bought it had he had the money. But off to Tia it went to fill her living room. May it serve her as well as it has me. Shortly thereafter came the closet (which was partially blocked by said futon). Stage two occured last weekend when my cousin took my computer desk back to her place. The main computer found its way onto the smaller rolling cart and the old machine was set aside. This weekend we moved everything that remained of the office out. We put the computer into the living room, we relocated many things, we vaccumed and we painted. The flat beige was no more as we put one and a half gallons of Lemon Parfait paint onto the walls.

Because everybody LOVES parfaits. They have layers.

We finished by assembling the crib, relocating the rocking chair and the donated dresser/changing table from my mother and topped it off with the mattress from Ken and Chris.

And thus we are moved. We’ve moved into another house for a while. It’s layed out the same, has most of our furniture but there’s this odd little yellow room. We used to go into the one in our old house all the time but this new room seems foreign. As if someone has grafted it onto our old house. I sit in the living room typing this also having moved. Gone is comfortable. Gone is our old life. We have moved. It’s a bit like orthodontics. You move the tooth and, eventually, after some discomfort and perhaps pain, the root moves too. So I sit in our new house and new room with the old still here, mocking us. This is not our house and, yet, here we are. But we are not stationary. We are moving.

Such is our new parfait house. Now with more layers.

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