Thelma Lou Switcheroo

The only difference between a rut and a grave is their dimensions.
~Ellen Glasgow

(My uncles used to call me Thelma Lou.  Maybe because my grandma is named Thelma Louise?  I don't know.  You'd have to ask my uncles.)

I do like to switcheroo.  Furniture that is.  It makes me happy.  I like moving things and cleaning behind and under them then figuring out a new spot.  I love how it feels to sit in a chair in a new spot.  I like a different view.

My mom, both grandmas, both sisters--none of them have moved their furniture except to accommodate a Christmas tree.

It's possible I was adopted.

Maybe not.

Last week I told Adam I needed to move furniture.  He looked slightly nervous and said he needed to go to work.  I said, "Not right now.  Just don't be surprised if everything's moved."

He nodded and went to work.

When he got home it looked like this.

I have no idea what kind of shenanigans my phone was up to here but it does help to illustrate the chaos that was reigning around here.

He asked me if one particular piece of furniture was going to stay there permanently.  I said, "Define permanently."

(If there's one thing about our furniture, it moves.)

He said he couldn't walk by without hitting it.  I forgot about his broad shoulders.  (How could I forget?  I like his broad shoulders.)

I told him I'd rearrange.

I also told him not to kill himself tripping over anything and that I was sorry about the state of things. 

He said, "Oh, it's fine.  I can see that it's a work in progress.  You are a creative person and this is a creative work."

Which is so nice of him.  He could have just as easily said I was a train wreck and this was a train wreck in the works.

But he didn't.

Here's how it looked before I started moving:

and...

 The end result was:

Not entirely accurate because it's a different perspective than the before picture but you get the idea.

and...

Blurry..my inability to take a decent picture is only eclipsed by my inability to care enough to try again...

It would seem that as the mother of three hearty and hale children, two of them teenagers, I would get a lot of assistance with all this moving around.

I didn't.

Braeden helped me move the loveseat which would have been impossible to move all alone and a bookcase that made the food he consumes seem worth it.  Emma helped me move one table.  Mark was sick so he just watched from a distance, sniffling.

There were conversations like this:

Me:  Emma, will you grab..."

E: No

Me:  OK.  Will you remind me how you're getting to the movie?

E: I'm driving, I know how to drive.  (Not true.)

Me:  Oh, that's right.  I forgot you have a car. (Also, not true.)

E: I'm going to steal one.  (Not true.  I hope.  She was walking toward me to help as she said it though.  She knows when she's beat.)

Braeden mostly just sighed deeply and wondered why I needed to move furniture.

It makes me feel all warm inside to have such helpful kids.  (I know they love me though...how could they not?)

Janet said my kids will talk about how crazy I am when they grow up.

Jill told her daughter, Hannah, "See, aren't you glad I'm not like her?"

It makes me feel all warm inside to have such supportive friends. (I know they love me though...how could they not?)

Change is the only evidence of life.
~ Evelyn Waugh