Yesterday was the first official birthday of the Little House (!!), otherwise known as the one-year anniversary since I signed my young name on one less-than-dotted line, and altered my life and maturity level forever.
My first entry of the lamentable few three I have written tells of how unprepared my 19-year-old self was to manage such a large house. Has it gotten better? Yes and no. I've turned into more of a neat freak, but still can't remember to clean out the refrigerator. I nearly had an emotional breakdown after discovering a closet full of boxes I'd never unpacked, and had to deal with the air conditioning man all on my own after a few particularly hot spring days post AC-explosion. The house has tested and tried me in ways I never thought possible, and I like to think I've come out (at least somewhat) on top.
But far out-weighing the stressful moments are the joyful ones. I've had countless sleepovers with my Little, who is nearly too tall for my grandmother's antique bed. I had 30 sisters hold their new member retreat in my living room (read: sleeping in every nook and cranny of the house!), and have had 5 am visits from friends who feel like watching Storage Wars rather than sleeping. I've somewhat conquered the art of crafting, and am looking forward to the arrival of Roommate O! And finally, I've watched as my house's nickname went from Little House...to Prepcastle...to Sratcastle...to now just our beloved Castle.
So until very (very!!! Do you believe me!?) soon, Happy Birthday, Castle!!
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