Sunday, September 12, 2004
An Autobiographical Story (aka Memoir) About When I Moved Last Year, part one
(I had to write a reflective paper for school, and I had fun writing this. You may or may not enjoy it, but oh well. I'm going to gove it to you in installments so that you may or may not stay hooked)
To start off with, I was happy where I was. Well, maybe not happy with everything, or happy all the time, but I was comfortable. I had three best friends at school, I had a good-sized room, and I was in walking distance of Shorecrest so I wouldn’t have to ride that hateful bus again. (I passionately disliked riding the school bus to Kellogg) So to my mind, everything was, well, hardly perfect (nothing is), but certainly better than moving.
I must admit that I wasn’t totally surprised when my parents dropped the bombshell on us. Due to the combination of 6 people and one bathroom in the house, they weren’t exactly ecstatic with the lack of space in the mornings. My mom had wanted to either remodel the downstairs and squeeze in another bathroom or move, for more than a year. Remodeling wasn’t the right option for us, because my mom still had nightmares about her childhood. My grandparents are either obsessed with remodeling, crazy, or they just really, really, like plaster. They have remodeled every house but one that I’ve known them to live in, and they moved out of that one after about 3 years. (My mom said that was because it was brand new and there was nothing they could to do to it. They said it was because of the stairs.) They’ve just finished a kitchen remodel on their present house. Before the kitchen, they added on a whole two other rooms and extended the deck. I hope they actually stay at this house, because it has a pool (!).
When my parents fully looked into the cost of remodeling, they decided that moving would actually cost about the same. Besides, “remodeling is so messy and…” (verbatim from my mom). So my parents contacted a real estate agent friend from church and told him they wanted to look for a nice house in the Shoreline area, especially in Richmond Beach...
to be continued...
To start off with, I was happy where I was. Well, maybe not happy with everything, or happy all the time, but I was comfortable. I had three best friends at school, I had a good-sized room, and I was in walking distance of Shorecrest so I wouldn’t have to ride that hateful bus again. (I passionately disliked riding the school bus to Kellogg) So to my mind, everything was, well, hardly perfect (nothing is), but certainly better than moving.
I must admit that I wasn’t totally surprised when my parents dropped the bombshell on us. Due to the combination of 6 people and one bathroom in the house, they weren’t exactly ecstatic with the lack of space in the mornings. My mom had wanted to either remodel the downstairs and squeeze in another bathroom or move, for more than a year. Remodeling wasn’t the right option for us, because my mom still had nightmares about her childhood. My grandparents are either obsessed with remodeling, crazy, or they just really, really, like plaster. They have remodeled every house but one that I’ve known them to live in, and they moved out of that one after about 3 years. (My mom said that was because it was brand new and there was nothing they could to do to it. They said it was because of the stairs.) They’ve just finished a kitchen remodel on their present house. Before the kitchen, they added on a whole two other rooms and extended the deck. I hope they actually stay at this house, because it has a pool (!).
When my parents fully looked into the cost of remodeling, they decided that moving would actually cost about the same. Besides, “remodeling is so messy and…” (verbatim from my mom). So my parents contacted a real estate agent friend from church and told him they wanted to look for a nice house in the Shoreline area, especially in Richmond Beach...
to be continued...
