Superstitous

Ah, a new year. New resolutions.  I wish I had stock in weight loss companies and gyms this time of year.  Especially gyms.  This year, I am going to try to get my superstitious, karma-fearing self a break.  As an Irish Catholic, I’ve got superstitions for my superstitions! And I am so scared of the karma train; ‘OCD’ has been whispered in my presence.

“Never sleep with your feet facing the door.” This is a cornerstone of my decorating mantra, especially when decorating a bedroom.  Think about the only time you are carried out of a room, feet first… probably not your best day (although it will be your last).  My mother has repeated this to me every single time I have moved (all 14 times). (A special thanks to all past boyfriends! Not to my Daddy, who announced after move #7 he was done and didn’t love me that much after all.) (BTW one of the best checks I have ever written in my life was hiring MOVERS!!)  My now husband is also very well acquainted with this particular rule.  He became aware of this particular rule our first night living together.  Our day had started out very early, and rather poorly… I was moving from St Louis to just outside of Atlanta, and my parents had thrown a going away party for us (really for me since Thomas never lived there, but “us” sounds so much nicer than “me.”)  Our morning started early, as I swear the alarm when off before t he sun came up, (possibly not but that is what is felt like), and really regretting all the AP Special Sangria from the night before. (My mother’s tip for perfect Sangria is to forget to cut it with club soda. Delicious every time!) So there we were—hung over and not so excited about spending the next 10 hours in a U-Haul towing a Jeep behind it. (Marriage retreats should be conducted in a road trip like environment.  Depending on the intensity of the retreat, different variables could come into play- no AC on a hot day, no radio, flat tire, etc.)  I sobbed the first three and half hours of the trip, which really set the mood.  I was OK by the time we got to Nashville, where we stopped for lunch.  That is, I was OK until I found out that Taco Bell had discontinued its standard chicken soft taco.  A nasty fake cheesy thing covered in scary white sauce had taken its place.  Seriously Taco Bell? You are going to play me like that?! Um, no thanks.  That set off the next round of crying. Just short of the Georgia state line, we started hearing some strange noises.  Because we did not have eyes in the backs of our heads (I do now because I now have a child), we stopped… and discovered that the Jeep was very close to coming unhinged. Not really sure of the hows or the whys as that is above my pay grade. Would speculate but might lose creditability.   Super. Thankfully, Thomas was able to fix it as all I was able to do was cry.  We continued on, and made to the house a very very long 11 hours later.  Thomas had the place painted (by a one armed painter. Thankfully we did not need any wall paper hung.), new carpet installed, and a deep, deep cleaning done. He wanted everything to be perfect, which was so sweet that it made me stop crying.  He opened the door with great fanfare, and… I started crying again. Thomas might have teared up as well.  The bargain deal on carpet laying did not include removing the unwanted/unused part of said carpet… Another couple of hours, a lot of elbow grease, and some crying, and we were done. We have set up our bedroom. (We have put a mattress on the floor and have moved enough crap so we can navigate around said bed.)  As Thomas comes into the room and is about to collapse into bed… but… THE BED IS FACING THE DOOR.  UNACCEPTABLE!!! Thomas learned about the “Never sleep with your feet facing the door” rule very quickly.  Then he started crying.  In the end, we had a great night’s sleep on our mattress with our feet facing the window, and, because of my vigilance, lived to tell about it!