A Story, Part One

I don't think I am going to answer comments from yesterday. This is something I almost never do. Have I ever? I mean, of course there have been days when I just could not get to it but today I am making a decision and it is based on the fact that almost all of the comments asked why we moved from the house that I showed you yesterday. It was a very fine house and it served us so well. It was within walking distance of schools, it was on a very quiet street and yet close to downtown and stores and all that fun stuff. In fact, Jessie and Vergil live about five blocks from that house now. It's a great neighborhood. 

And then I think I got a little bit of an itch to move. As many good memories as I have of living in that house, there are also memories that are deeply painful and seeing certain things in the house trigger them. This is not an insignificant detail. When I say "painful" I actually mean terrifying and I am not using hyperbole. 

But on to why we moved into the next house- A distant relative of Mr. Moon's was having some work done on his car at Glen's shop and Glen gave him a ride home. This was some sort of much older second or third or whatever cousin twice removed or...well, Tennessee genealogy can get complex. But when Glen drove the man onto his property and saw the house and the huge lawn and yard (click on the picture above to a link to see the whole house and trust me- we neither paid anything like that kind of money for it or got that kind of money for it when we sold it) he said, "Hey Cuz. When are you going to sell me this house?"
Well, it turned out that the man and his wife were very much contemplating moving to be nearer to their daughter in Georgia. Their situation was complicated by the fact that they were both, if not hoarders, collectors of every damn thing in the world. And I mean- good things. Not trash. Furniture, sets of china, quilts, Ojets D' Art, tires for an antique car, antique tools, antique housewares...you name it, they had it. In fact, they had so much of it that things were stacked (neatly) on every square inch of space in the house to the point where you really could not see what the interior of the house looked like. There was a room off to the side in the basement that held only decades' worth of neatly stacked, mostly "women's" magazines, on shelves built solely for that purpose and the stacks went from floor to ceiling. There was a maze of them. The wife of the couple insisted that they were going to move all of the house's contents to Atlanta with them. The packing and planning for this overwhelmingly immense task was going to take awhile and so they needed a buyer who would let them stay in the house until they were ready to move. 
And guess who those people were? 
Yes. Mr. and Ms Moon. The cuz did give us a good price and they paid us rent for every month they stayed in the house after we bought it. And I have to tell you, I kicked and screamed about moving there. I did not want to live in that house. It was too big, too fancy, too, too much. 
I did love the back porch and the pool which were both amazing, but honestly- I could not see myself living there. I came up with every excuse in the world not to buy that house. I cried rivers of tears. Mr. Moon, however, was determined that we should. And with everything I pointed out that I did not like about the house, he figured out a way to make it so that I would. I hated the kitchen. He tore it out and rebuilt it and he found someone to make me stainless steel countertops and bought me a big fancy stove. He handed me my dream kitchen. 

Finally, my defenses crumbled and I agreed to the purchase and the move. 
And so we bought the house. I was not thrilled but I came around and the fact that it took the former owners months and months to move gave me more time to get used to the idea. And eventually, I was actually somewhat excited. Thank goodness we had given the former owners a deadline for their moving out as part of the purchase contract so they did have to move and how they managed to get all that shit into moving vans I do not know. Well, of course they didn't do it themselves but my god. And they weren't out until the day of the deadline and...all those magazines remained where they were. As far as I know, they're still there because we sure left them behind. I thought I'd spend hours looking at recipes in 1970's Ladies Home Journals, but I did not. 

I'm going to continue this story tomorrow. It is Friday, as you know, and I have actually been a busy little housewife. 

It has been a most glorious day The leaves were positively dancing in diamonds as the sun reflected off of them against that clear blue sky. 

I heard from my friend in Roseland and all is well with him and his husband and their properties. They never lost power and although there is a lot of yard debris, everything is relatively unscathed. He said he needs some aquatic pandas though, to get rid of all the bamboo in the pool. I told him that I was sure he could easily order some from China. I am so glad to hear that news. 

I drove on the interstate to get to Publix today, but heading west. The traffic heading east was thick and slow, barely moving. So many people are trying to get home after evacuating and I saw many power trucks, fuel tankers, and regular semi's hauling goods. I did not get back on the interstate to get home, instead, driving leisurely through neighborhoods and down the backroads which is my favorite way to get from here to town and back anyway.

Mr. Moon has just made me a martini and I need to go get our supper cooking. I made an eye of round roast last night which was something I've never done before, and tonight I am using leftovers to make French dip sandwiches which I've also never made. My little baguettes are ready to come out of the oven and I'm about to go cook some onions. 

I wish you all clean sheets and your beverage of choice.
Happy Friday, y'all.

Love...Ms. Moon