We just passed the one-month mark of living in our new house. At least, I *think* it’s our new house. Considering there are stacks of stuff everywhere, we may be living in a box fort.
This is the exact text conversation I had with a friend right after we moved in:
Friend: How’s the unpacking going?
Me: Slow. But my parents are taking the boys this week so we’ll have it all done by Saturday.
Friend: Ha ha!
Me: Ha ha!
When my friend typed “ha ha,” she meant, “Oh, Amanda, aren’t you funny.” When I typed “ha ha,” I meant, “I’m not sure why we’re laughing but I’m having a good time anyways” – because I was 10000000% fully convinced that I would have us totally box-free in seven calendar days. Ha ha.
It took us a month-and-a-half to move out of our old house. By the end, we had taken to using a backhoe to just shovel our stuff into any square-shaped object that could be taped shut. I did not see any reason to take this timeline into account when estimating our move-in. My logic was this: God had created a whole universe in seven days; I could stick my sweatshirts in a drawer much, much faster than that.
Here is what Kyle and I actually got accomplished that week:
- Put away the kids’ toys. This was an absolute necessity to do while the boys were away because we relocated the vast majority of it into the garbage can and the donation box.
- Put away the kids’ clothes. This was also an absolute necessity because I deemed it so.
- Went on three-hour dinner-and-Target dates because we had free babysitting happening.
- Moved boxes from one room to another so as to “organize” them. Most of these boxes had descriptive labels like, “Amanda Stuff” (to separate it from all of the other items in the house with alternative ownership) and “Extra Art” (not to be confused with “Required Art”).
The rest of the time was used like this:
- Open box labeled “Kitchen Stuff.”
- Unwrap toaster, two drinking glasses, and package of bedsheets.
- Abandon kitchen box in order to take sheets upstairs to box labeled, “Bedding Stuff.”
- Open and unpack “Bedding” box to its entirety. Break down box, put box in recycling pile, tell spouse, “I got the bedding done!”
- Wait for spouse to say, “Actually, I saw some pillowcases in the ‘Garage Stuff’ box, so I moved it to the bathroom.”
- Open “Garage Stuff” box, find a popped beach ball, the rest of the drinking glasses, a set of sheets for a bed size we don’t have, and the neighbor’s dog, Pepperoni.
Now, a month later, we have found enough toasters and returned enough Pepperonis that we have reached the stage where everything we NEED-need is in place and everything else has a certain “Why do we have all of these popped beach balls, do we really REQUIRE them” feel to it. The most significant of these “popped beach balls” being, of course, our couch.
We don’t have a couch. We HAD a couch, which we used so enthusiastically for ten years that it was more a couch-like substitute, like margarine. We gave that sofa-ish to an acquaintance when we moved, knowing that we had a brand-new seating situation coming thanks to the magic of the Internet.
Unsurprisingly, the Internet turned on us. That new couch arrived in the wrong color (the humanity!), and so we sent it back, and called to inquire about the correct hue.
“Yes, I’d be happy to order you that item in ‘Sandy Sandy’s Sandy Sand,'” the operator said. “And you’re in luck, because we are expecting a shipment of that color in only 8-10 weeks.”
As you may know, everyone in the universe is in the market for a couch – causing a bit of a backlog in the furniture supply chain. My neighbor, for example, recently received her own new sofa EIGHTEEN months after she ordered it.
I don’t have that kind of patience. I also don’t have that kind of memory, because if I had ordered a couch eighteen months ago and it showed up today I’d have to stack it on top of whatever other couch I had picked up in the meantime after forgetting that I had one in the mail.
Right now we don’t have a couch. Instead, we have a rug and four camping chairs. Add a burn barrel and some s’mores and the living room would really get pulled together.
Anyways, in being sofa-less for a month, we’ve discovered that we don’t really NEED-need a couch. Technically, we don’t really NEED-need a seating system at all; before we had the camping chairs, we had the rug and a few pillows and everyone was fine – in fact, we only brought in the camping chairs because I wanted a place to put a drink. We’re still in the market for a couch, but by the time we find one that will arrive in a week or so, I’m guessing we’ll have decided that we could better put our money into some pretty sweet camping chairs and call it good.
The photo above is of Kyle shopping for a couch.
This week’s news has a Table of Contents, Living History, and a Grandma who always has a dollar. Read on.
Bismarck’s Grandma Cindy Bastien has been handing out one-dollar bills to kids at the grocery store since 2016 because “Grandma always has a dollar.” (KFYR TV)
The Bagg Bonanza Farm, located near Wahpeton, has sparked up the ovens for its annual Labor Day dinner, ice cream social, and celebration. (Wahpeton Daily News)
The 46th annual Sam McQuade Softball Tournament raised over $180,000 to be donated to Bismarck non-profits. (KFYR TV)
The Williston Community Library is pulling out all of the stops placemats for their annual Tables of Contents, at which the community dines on story-themed tables. (Williston Herald)
Live in Grand Forks? The Northlands Rescue Mission is fundraising to pack weekend meal packs to ensure students have full bellies seven days of the week. (Grand Forks Herald)
The Lake Agassiz Habitat for Humanity in Fargo is knocking on the door of its 68th home build. (KVRR)
Four Williston Firefighters are headed to Baton Rouge, Louisiana to assist with hurricane recovery efforts. (KFYR TV)
This Sunday, head on over to Fort Union for a Living History Weekend with blacksmithing, barrel making, a candle-lit tours. (Williston Herald)