it's a fond farewell after all

i am through with the mt waddington hole. i have washed my hands (and the rest of me) of it. i am through with this house,

where kitchen faucets have no common decency...

where garbage day is a tri-annual event...

where generations of 'storage' find their resting place...

where the dishrag is also the garden (doesn't that make you want to barf?)...

where poker is a necessary predecessor to sleep...

where gluttony is NOT a sin...

where household vermin are hunted with broomsticks (and butcher knives, and two-by-fours, and bare hands)...

where benny boop had his first smoke...

and his first 'black eye'...

where cultery is optional...

and usually unavailable...

alan schram suggests that perhaps God led me here...i suppose He did, because i certainly didn't choose this dump. when all was said and done (and dropped off at the value village), it was way more good than bad. i thank God for daddys who lend us their trucks to move and for friends who lend us their trucks and their manly arm strength, for thrift stores that wont accept any of our shoddy-but-still-functional furniture so that we appreciate the ones that will take it all, from the glass jar shaped like an apple to the chair with the cigarette burn in the arm. i thank God for berfday parties and for parties without occasion, for trabble scrabble and tetanus shots, for a coffee table slightly less precarious than its predecessor and for free coffee, for amy and chels and jo and munro and caleb and ben and alan and james and donovan and those boys from quest and bekah and arnie and erin (peters) and adam nash and lutz and chris penner and everyone else who piled their shoes in the front hall and had a smoke on the porch and hit their head on joanna's ceiling and tried to kill (or at least swore at) the rat and accidentally sat on that horrible spot on the couch and watched back-to-back episodes of the OC and generally participated in mt waddingtonery.

we don't live there anymore. *rachel sheds a single tear while drinking wine straight from the bottle and staring out the window over paris*