Yesterday was another day of adventure. It started with my determination to finish unpacking the final room in our apartment – the office – and ended with meeting Mrs. Edwards.
This past weekend when the library was closed, Toby studied in the basement storage area. When he told me that he had had no idea it was daylight after emerging from the dark depths, I thought it was time to get his office cleaned out and arranged.
Organizing the office entailed unpacking and sorting about seven boxes of various sizes containing books, art and school supplies, coloring books for the kids, cameras and similar devices, frames, stationary, and other office-type paraphernalia. It also required me to decide what to do with Toby’s massive amounts of book boxes entitled “MISC. THEOLOGY.” Before moving, I had had the mistake of asking my father to help Toby sort through his office library to decide which theological books Toby might need at seminary and beyond. I think my dad suggested keeping everything. Because yesterday I moved (what seemed like everything) down two-flights of outdoor, 106-degree stairs to the basement storage area. Phew!
After that was done, Toby had planned to take his lunch break at home so I could go and get a new driver’s license. I’d really rather not talk about that experience. It’s probably very similar to any of yours. Most government facilities are notorious for creating the types of situations that result in a good story …later. I can sum this particular story up by saying that I had a VISA credit card which they would not accept unless it was debit, a MASTERCARD debit card that they would not accept unless Toby was with me, and four dollars in cash that they would not accept because it was sixteen dollars short. But in the end, I got my license!
When I got home, I decided to reward myself with some computer time. Since being at seminary, I have joined the ladies’ facebook page and get daily (sometimes hourly) updates on just about everything from babysitting needs to volunteer opportunities to sweet deals. This particular moment in facebook time, a woman was offering up a half-gallon of raw cow’s milk for anyone who was willing to drive to her home and pick it up. That had adventure written all over it. And since the kids’ dinner was too hot to eat, I threw them all in the van and went in search of Mrs. Edwards and the cow’s milk.
I found it easily. A residential house straight south from where we live. When Mrs. Edwards handed me the milk, she reminded me that I needed to return the large mason jar when I was finished. I glanced at the top of the jar and saw, written in sharpie, “Edwards, 30A.” I asked, “Is this the apartment number that I should return it too?” She laughed and replied, “No, that’s the cow.”