Josh got an email saying they have arranged housing for us. Yea for not being homeless! I wasn’t worried, but it is nice to know that people are actually expecting us to arrive, since I don’t know that I’m actually expecting us to arrive yet.
According to intel via the spy network (really, just regular old email from friends, but I know how some of you persist in thinking we are on a covert mission) our house is a duplex with wonderful neighbors. Lucky for us, maybe not so lucky for them depending on how thick the walls are. They have boys the ages of Carter and Caleb and a younger little girl. Supposedly the kitchen is ginormous — wait, “ginormous” didn’t get flagged by my spell-checker — has it become a real word now? Hmm, I’m going to have to come up with a new fake word . . . hugantic? largantic? hunormous?
Anyway, hugantic kitchen. They must know that Josh and I are all about kitchens. Learning from past mistakes, we are bringing two great knives with us in our luggage. Everything else is negotiable or unnecessary, but without good knives, it’s no fun to cook. Thus, the many nights of Arzak or Otlob in Egypt.
The rest of the house? A “ridiculously large” master bedroom (I’m quoting what I remember Josh reading from the email) and I think there was something about maid’s quarters too. More significant is that it is within walking distance of stuff, since we expect to be car-less for quite a while. “Stuff” is the technical term for Starbucks, a grocery store, restaurants, etc. I think he said Starbucks was close by, I could be wrong about that part. He’s not home right now or I’d ask him. He’s out buying another suitcase to transport all our knives. (Really, we’re not spies.)