Sorry if the shots are crooked, my photoshop is back in ‘Cruces! We’re on the third floor, which means a hike up the stairs to haul suitcases and groceries. The night we got in, I thought we would perish. After nine hours of travel and little sleep, bumping three hundred pounds of luggage up two flights of stairs was murder.
“What! There’s no elevator?!” I gasped at the well-groomed receptionist. Heh. To her credit, she replied with an offer of fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies. Eh, life is full of trade-offs. Egor singlehandedly manhandled the crib and changing table up the stairs to my complete astonishment. Watching him teeter and grunt sent a chill down my spine. Visions of his tragic death bent and mangled at the bottom of the stairs, crushed by the festive “Sleigh Crib” box were hard to shake off even after we assembled the entire nursery. Brrrr. I wonder how Mom will manage the stairs. Heck, I wonder how I will manage the stairs carrying a squirmy 18 month old!? As if generations were felled by flights of stairs. Heh.