I need to write, I want to write, I write in my head all day long but unfortunately my computer is floating around in the middle of the ocean on the way to Las Vegas and I have nothing to write on. It should be there by mid to late August. In the meantime I’m at the whims of people in my family with keyboards and internet.
So we got a house in Las Vegas. Last week Jason and I took five days off from the kids and our wonderful Northwest vacation and actually paid money to spend a week in…the desert. I can think of a lot of words for Las Vegas but I’m going to stick with that one. Let’s just say it was hot. Also, it was really warm outside. Then there was the heat to deal with. And if I hear my husband lecture me one more time about the values of dry heat I might just stick him with a hot poker–aka any pointy metallic item left outside for more than 2 minutes in the pounding Las Vegas sun. And yes, we lived in Maryland so I know what humidity feels like. Still going to complain.
The good news is we finally and accidentally found the best real estate dude who found us the best rental. This took us a few try’s including spending a morning with an old man who didn’t really care about showing us houses but instead wanted to regale us with stories about his childhood investigative exploits. Serious. Burned an entire morning trying to get away from him, bless his heart. (If I sound cranky it’s because heat makes me cranky.)
But the evening of our first day after seeing only 6 houses we drove into our future neighborhood, passed the chapel on the way in, and instinctively knew–before even seeing the home–that It Was The Place. We took one look at the big green cesspool in the backyard and high-fived. Once they get the gators out of it and scrub it up real pretty it’s going to be perfect. The house is smaller than my 6 levels of German tile, only 2 floors and about 2300 square feet, but it’s going to be just right. Huge backyard for Las Vegas and none of the neighbors can see our pool which is important to me. I’m just not comfortable with the fish bowl that makes up most of the suburban areas we saw. But the best part is we found a place in Henderson relatively close to Jason’s work. Hallelujah for a short commute.
It was a good thing we took five days because renting a home is not easy. This is the first time we’ve rented since we were newlyweds and we had no idea it was such a lengthy process. Our lease didn’t finally materialize until our last day there. Hoops, cashier’s checks, stuck at Hash House A Go-Go while we waited…such a tough life.
I don’t think the week would have been complete, however, had we not had a good solid disagreement, also known as a knock-down-drag-out-kick-you-out-of-the-car-and-threaten-to-drive-to-Pensicola fight. Personally, I think Jason and I have been getting along way too well during this move. So well that in hindsight you might even say we were apathetic. Now that would be a tragedy. Thank goodness for miscommunication and hypersensitivity, our marriage is safe again.
For the record, if you happen to have one of those Celestial marriages that never fights or disagrees stop reading about a paragraph ago and go kiss your spouse. Good on you.
My poor husband. Sometimes I think he’s right when he tells me I’m bat crazy and oversensitive. Honestly, when I think of how mad I got about his opinion on end table decor it’s mostly embarrassing and incredibly stupidifeeling, which is a word that describes how stupid you feel when you realize it honestly was ALL YOUR FAULT.
However, it’s a good thing Jason isn’t perfect either or he would have left me a long time ago. In fact, he actually tried to leave by way of the car door and chose to walk the 5 miles back to where we were staying in order to cool off in the 107 degree heat instead of driving in the air conditioned car where we could fight in a climate controlled environment. I might have stealthily parked and watched his pilgrimage in case he calmed down and wanted a ride.
He didn’t.
But the good news is that despite the merry-go-round of apologies–you’re ready to say sorry but they’re not ready to forgive so then you get mad again and then they say sorry but you’re not ready to forgive so they get mad again–and despite the fact that I had a few moments where I considered taking the rental car and leaving him afoot for the rest of the week, by some miracle of dual humility we finally decided to love each other and kept our date night to do a session at the temple (which was probably the reason we got in such a silly fight to begin with, that darn devil).
Making up is the best, most wonderful thing ever. There is nothing better than holding my sweetheart’s hand and knowing that he’s determined to keep me, hypersensitivity and all. Thank goodness for my favorite two phrases, “I’m sorry” and “I’m sorry too.”
So here we are, back in Elma at the farm waiting for my Sister in law Heather to come for a few days before we wrap up our trip and head south. We are constantly drawn out to our little ten acres to swim in the pond or check the fresh cut hay or stand around at twilight looking at the view and getting bitten by mosquitoes. It’s amazing to feel like we have a place in this world.
Can’t wait to someday get home.