Jacob's house is over 100 years old, on the Historic Register. Behind the house is a little cottage that was originally his home's carriage house. It was converted to living space in the 1950s. When the tenant gave notice that she was buying a house and moving out, I got to thinking.
This might be an opportunity that's too good to pass up. Daughter and I were spending almost every evening at Jacob's house, and I was developing a strong dislike for the four-mile drive home each night. And it comes with storage space in a detached garage. No more storage unit with Ranger.
Jacob said he'd rather I was moving boxes into his house, but he'd take what he could get. So, it was a done deal. We rented the carriage house.
Moving day came very quickly. Daughter and I cleaned, sorted, and packed. We had an ungodly number of boxes. I rented a truck, Son, and a friend of his for the day, and so it began....
First, we went to clear out the storage unit. Ranger assured me that it was easy to get to my stuff, that he'd organized it and left a clear aisle to get to things.
He was sorely mistaken.
My things were buried in two places in the unit, with his rock tonnage in the way. After I threw a fit for awhile, we started digging out. In the process, Son spotted some rocks he thought were ultimately cool. I let him take them.
He also spotted some of his old toys and was transformed. The light that came across his face as he handled the pieces of his wooden train track and old crayon drawings was of such child-like joy....well, it did my heart good to see that my little boy is still behind that "I'm a man now" attitude.
Son and his friend cursed my love of books on more than one occasion that day. The number of book boxes is kind of overwhelming. I need more shelves.
At the carriage house, we started the unloading process. Instantly, we encountered a problem. The staircase takes a sharp turn at the foot, then there's a low overhang going up. The combination of the two made it impossible to fit the box springs to a double and queen bed up the stairs.
"You'll just have to get out of the lease," my mother said. Always butter-side up, I swear.
I went to talk to Jacob, who was home sick from work. He came and examined the problem. In no time, he had the double bed's box springs up the stairs. Son was gaping at him. My folks were impressed. Leprechaun magic, I said.
The queen wasn't so easy. Jacob tried removing the handrail. One good shove and...the box springs knocked a big hole in the wall. Someone suggested dismantling the box springs, then reassembling upstairs.
As this discussion went on, Jacob laughed to himself.
"What?" I asked.
"Oh, I was just thinking that we could take it over to my room," he said, quietly to just me. "Then, you and I could break it, then move it over here...."
Yeah, we know how to break bed-things. I had to laugh, too!
Plan B. No box springs. We got plywood and built a platform in my bed frame. Jacob later made a sweet offer.
"How attached are you to that bed?" he asked.
"Very," I said. I love this furniture. It's the bed I bought when I finally released I didn't have to keep the big king bed that I'd bought with my ex.
"Oh, because I could build you a nice platform bed," he said. "Very Japanese!"
So, Daughter and I have been settling in to our little cottage. It is little. Tiny, actually. But it's oh-so-cute. And we're all oh-so-happy with it. Seeing her, the first night she snuggled into her bed, amid a roomful of boxes, smiling as she typed out a journal entry...well, she was happy.
As am I. And Jacob and his girls. He stops to say "Good morning" to me as he leaves in the morning.
"I don't have makeup on," I said.
"You're beautiful," he said, then kissed me and went on his way.
The other night, I crept over to his house and snuggled into bed with him in the wee hours. It marked the first time we awakened together in the morning, and it was beyond delightful.
Only one incident marred the week. I was home, unpacking. I took a break to play with Foursquare. There is a checking spot for the Historic District. I used it.
Unbeknown to me, Ranger was waiting at a bus stop. Four blocks away from my house. I've avoided telling him where I'm moving to, although he's aware I moved my part of storage.
Apparently, he saw my checkin and set about finding me. He spotted my car.
I got a text. "123, eh?" he said. ("123" being the numbers of my address.)
Then, a knock on the door.
I was not happy. I'm making my Foursquare checkins private now, so no one else can see them.
Jacob asked later if he could help. "I can come out and act like a psychopath," he said. "Try to bite my own face and all that."
That mental image about slayed me. And it just might work! Ha!
But today, we switch gears. Daughter and I are off on our annual Spring Break trip. Vegas, baby!
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