I may not have the funky beads, or the sink, but I, like Greg Brady, now have an attic room.
Why the reference?
It was the day after the movers unloaded all of our boxes that I began to feel a surge of Brady.
Having come from loading our Evanston split-level home, Tony, the lead guy on our move was a real trouper as he and his partner now unloaded boxes on 4 levels of our 1909 structure. (I promise that photos are forthcoming. )
I figured that they had the hard job. The hot job. The exhausting job of hauling in my life and leaving it in piles from the basement to the attic. So I supplied them with a good lunch, plenty of Gatorade, and a hefty tip.
Then came my turn.
Remember how Marcia, in an attempt to get Greg to relinquish the attic bedroom by fatiguing him, set up a Brady scheme of having him phoned several times one evening so that he would have to descend two flights of stairs over and over just to reach the telephone - which of course had no one on the line when he arrived in the living room, at which time he would climb back up the two flights to his funky '70's attic space? (Sure, it speaks to the mystery as to why the Brady's didn't have a phone upstairs, but rather one in the living room and one in the tiny family room off the back of the house, but that is so not my point).
Ok, Greg had nothing on me, for I also have a basement.
Back to the day following the unload. I must have climbed to the attic and back down to the main level of the house at least 2,374 times. That number may be a little off. Plus, there were a few trips all the way down to the basement. Now, life won't always be this way, as currently I'm in the process of having to unpack and decide where my belongings will land, which means a ton of stair climbing, but sheesh, Greg! Seriously, dude, I have so many more stairs to climb than you ever did in that house that only had two bathrooms for the 8 of you (well, maybe three, as I think Alice had one).
But I do get how important that attic room was to you.
For here I sit, a gentle nightly breeze coming through the window, writing in my own space. A space full of boxes yet to be unpacked, but a room for which I have prayed.
My latest idea for the space along with it being my writing area, and Mary Kay office?
To take one wall (as I have several nooks and crannies) and fill it with photos of my friends. A visual prayer wall, if you will. That way, I can see all of you as I pray for you.
It was an exciting but exhausting day here which included a city-wide Orienteering activity, sponsored by the library, during which Harper and I literally ran the town with a map in hand looking for the locations listed, hitting a yard sale, more appliance purchases (we were left with some duds), a trip to Aldi, and arranging the living room and dining room. So, after all this, I escape. Here.
Just as I'm sure Greg did before The Brady Bunch "jumped the shark" and added cousin Oliver to the show - a feeble attempt to save a sinking ship once Greg and Mr. Brady jumped overboard. I'm sure you can read all about this in some Brady expose.
First Sunday at our new church tomorrow . . . I'm thinking there won't be any Brady references.