The date had been etched on the calendar for a year, DC’s last day of work, the day he would retire after 40 years of practicing law. He talked about this nonstop, sometimes with exhilaration (Oh, the places we’ll go!), sometimes with ambivalence (Who will handle my cases?), sometimes with anxiety (only seven more paychecks).   I, his patient and tolerant wife, ignored all his mental machinations and focused instead on, what else? Marking the milestone with a party at our pla

On move-in day , a runway of quilted blankets formed a path between the moving truck and our new front door. Five insanely strong men made a steady trek from truck to door like a trail of army ants, each one carrying an item three times his weight and size.   Meanwhile, my arms flail like a Dutch windmill’s sending the movers in various directions. “Where does this go, Ma’am?” one asks while holding a Bombay chest as though it were a cereal box. “Uh, living room,” I say and f

Until recently, I thought the expression that something makes your head spin was just a figure of speech. I now know it’s real. After my husband, DC, and I sold the Happier Yellow House in a whirlwind deal, without even listing it, we had 45 days to find a new house, pack up and move out. During half of those days, we were away on a long-planned, non-refundable summer vacation, which was supposed to be relaxing, but which turned into a nonstop frenzy of long-distance broker

Since selling The Happier Yellow House and moving out, my husband, DC, and I had one goal —move into our new house, The Happiest Yellow House, as soon as possible. But first we wanted to renovate. Our mantra became: Fix it fast.     As anyone who has bought a house and remodeled before moving in understands, managing multiple home improvement projects at once takes the strategic genius of George Washington, the diplomacy of Nelson Mandela and a pot of Irish luck.   I did ever