I love my share of the little grey house on Brooks Street. Kirsten hasn't moved in yet, but I am eagerly awaiting her arrival, desperate for the sounds of an actual full house. The empty room by the front door is a constant reminder that we are not yet complete. But Kylie and I have had a blast as roommates for the past two months!
Many many laughs have been had, so much so that I've begun thinking I need to start a monthly installment of a post titled "conversations in the little grey house on Brooks Street."
We've discussed pizza and breadsticks at great length. We've lamented the shoddiness of our oven and the over-alert-ness of our smoke detector. Whichever it is, whenever the oven is opened to take out food, it must be aggressively fanned to prevent the screeching of the alarm. We have learned and often warn each other when removing meals.
We've spent time arranging the word magnets on our fridge into inappropriate phrases, fitting for a 22 year old and an almost 21 year old. We still don't have a couch in our living room, but there is a painted bookcase and a few boxes. So very homey.
I've met our neighbors across the street and they are some of the sweetest people ever. The husband helped me move in a chest of drawers one afternoon, which is when I learned his wife (Jana?Janet?He spoke so fast!) was also an English major. I met her a few weeks later when she was out gardening and she assured me she is gainfully employed and always has been. It gives me hope! I also met their swoon-worthy son..
A few nights ago I sat on the front porch, wrapped in my sleeping bag since we still don't have furniture out there yet, and watched the torrential downpour. I can't determine whether I love our back deck or our front porch more...both are perfection in their own ways, in different kinds of weather. I lay on the back deck and soak up the rays often. But on this particular evening, I saw our neighbors across the street from the porch and we exchanged pleasantries. He mentioned his wife had just made dinner and asked if I would like some roasted quinoa and vegetables. Up until this point in my life, I had never tasted quinoa. But when the neighbor with the attractive son offers you free food YOU DON'T SAY NO. So I apprehensively said yes. He brought a dish over to me and commented on my book choice, remembering the title and author to tell his word loving wife.
And my verdict on quinoa? Not bad!
I've decorated my room with a few of my favorite things: namely people, places, and Thunder colors. I painted my dresser Scotland blue and attached orange knobs, a tribute to my main man, KD. I found a perfect set of drawers at Hobby Lobby, marked down from an astronomical price, and made an impulse buy. Each drawer is painted a different country flag from all over the world. I love that I've been to 6 out of the 10 places. My room is an escape. I can look at one of the many postcards and pictures plastered all over the walls and be transported to a different time in my life. A time when I was spending money, not saving it. A time when I was talking with my friends in a flat in Dundee, not snatching a few moments to Facetime or Skype. A time when I was constantly planning my next adventure. And the giant Scotland flag above my bed is definitely a conversation starter, if nothing else!
I love evenings within the little grey house the best. Gibby is home from work, I am just walking in from a shift at Sam's, usually dramatically dropping my vest on the nearest surface, and we sit at the kitchen table (because, remember, there's nowhere else to sit). Sometimes we talk, sometimes we blare music, sometimes we drink, sometimes we snapchat, and sometimes we do all of the above, PLUS put together a puzzle.
I roped Gibby into completing an "impossipuzzle" with me, so named because it's just an image of cupcakes in rows and it's incredibly hard to put together. We struggled to piece it together, throwing puzzle pieces to the side in fits of "dammit I've tried that one there 8 times, take it away from me!"
And I marveled at how often it looked like a puzzle piece might almost fit. It had all of the characteristics of the one next to it. But the shape was slightly skewed, just good enough to look right from a distance, but not good enough to be perfect.
My life is like that puzzle. I try to fit the pieces together and sometimes they look right at first. They might even look right for a long time. But then I look again and see the edges don't quite line up. That piece belongs in my life, but it might not belong where I originally thought it did. As the pieces rearrange and come together, I see more clearly what my life is beginning to look like. And A Very Lucky Girl is happy with the picture.