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August 03, 2006
Elissa in St. Louis: Intentional Daily Excitement
I never considered my life in Chattanooga to be particularly dull. But, St. Louis life thus far -- all six days of it -- has certainly one-upped my former southern home in terms of excitement. Consider:
On Saturday we (with the help of one Zach Wood) unloaded our truck in the middle of a thunderstorm. Also, Whittier, still a little tipsy from her sedatives, slid down the stairs before anyone could grab a camera.
On Sunday we (again with ZW and the sweet-saw-that-belonged-to-his-friend) quite literally cut out the bannister and wooden bars that were encasing our extremely narrow stair case. For Noel, this move was driven primarily by aesthetics. On a purely utilitarian level, the eradication was necessary if we ever wanted to furnish our second story.
On Monday I tried to wreak havoc on the interstate and succeeded at least partially. Events that require too much back story to relate conspired and left me sitting on the shoulder of Highway 40 in a friend's pick up truck that had previously been piled high with plywood. I was unharmed, the truck was fine, and the little green VW that had leapt out irrationally before my barreling mass of steel had disappeared, apparently healthy. The interstate fared least well, littered as it was with wooden beams and boards.
At this point in the week, I started telling Noel that I was trying to "do one exciting thing every day." I have not had to try very hard.
On Tuesday we had our first overnight house guests in the form of two Chattanooga friends who had just arrived, moving truck in tow, in St. Louis but were rendered temporarily homeless by the findings of a housing inspector who essentially deemed their prospective home a whitewashed sepulchure. We squeezed our queen air mattress into the box-filled back bedroom and ate dinner on the living room floor.
Wednesday was designated cordless drill day. I spent a happy afternoon assembling our "audio pier," installing hooks in our closet, and discovering a poorly patched hole the previous owner had hidden with a towel rack. I also used our broiler for the first time, an event of particular note since our previous house's oven -- along with its uncertain temperature issues -- also declined to broil.
On Thursday, while removing paint from the stairs, I tried to blow myself up, but succeeded only in shorting out the brand new heat gun and subsequently setting off the fire alarm with its replacement.
While living a life packed full of excitement is a worthy endeavor, it also leaves little time for unpacking. On the other hand, our lack of in-house internet for two more weeks (thanks to Charter's inexplicable dearth of technicians) does open up some free moments, as yet unoccupied by further death-defying adventures...
Carefully Dramatized Life Accounts | By elissa | 07:34 PM
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Comments
Don't worry. You can always try to blow yourself up another day.
Posted by: funke at August 4, 2006 12:24 AM
