I may be short, but I’ve got a strong back. This is why my grandma recruited me to help her move into an assisted living apartment.
I recruited John.
He is taller, which means he can move taller stuff. He also has a van.
Together, we are van-tastic movers. (And I improved my cart-surfing skills during the move.)
My super-cool grandma has officially moved into:
I informed Grandma that #2 is poo. She didn’t mind.
And, because my grandma had to downsize in the move to assisted living, I am the proud recipient of many of her belongings. I like moving bits and pieces of her house into my house — it makes my house seem a little warmer and friendlier.
I’m also the owner of the best little table in the world.
My grandma got this table as a gift when she was a little girl. She loved it because she actually owned a piece of furniture — it didn’t belong to her parents.
She’s moved approximately 815 times since then, and the table has traveled with her. She’s almost 93 years old, so the table is probably at least 412 years old. Probably.
The table was her special piece of furniture, and I’m her special Laura. So, the table and I will stick together for a long, long while. I’m sure we’ll be very happy.
I’m currently enjoying the fact that the things I “inherited” from Grandma’s apartment still smell like Grandma. It’s one of the most comforting smells my nose has ever experienced. I’ve tried to pinpoint the exact scent for years, but I can’t. I think it’s a mixture of hand lotion, foot powder, and love.
Now, I must go sniff my table.