So this was Marie's house?

I never knew my grandmother, although that was probably because I never really knew my mother. My mother died when I was three, and according to my father, when they were married grandma Marie was less than pleased. My guess is she didn't like my dad. Regardless, I can only remember seeing her twice in my 17 years of existence. So when her lawyer contacted my dad after her death, I was more than a little shocked to find out that she left her two story farm house, and all its contents, to me. Of course I was her only living blood relative, so maybe it wasn't all that weird. When my dad found out that the house had been paid off several years earlier, he was all for packing up and moving to Oklahoma. The house was located right on the outskirts of Tulsa. Previously dad and I had been living in a tiny one bedroom apartment in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Growing up I had moved around enough that I have lived in six different states, including Washington, Oregon, Idaho, California, and even for a short time Arizona. I guess we can go ahead and add Oklahoma to the list, so what would that be... seven different states? Anyway My mom always wanted to travel. See new places, you know? After she died I guess moving around was my dads way of keeping the promise he made to her before they married. I hate moving, But being here, I can truly see why my mom wanted to get the hell away from Tulsa. We drove through the town on the way to the house, and there is truly nothing here, and I find myself hoping my dad will see some brochure and spark up an interest in living anywhere but here. Although something tells me dad was too quick to pack up and leave New Mexico, and that scares me. We might be staying in Oklahoma for a while... Damn.

...

I lay in my bed after a whole day of cleaning. Dust... who knew there could be so much of it? Marie had only been dead a little over two weeks, but I am telling you there was at the very least a two year thick layer of it coating everything in this house. It took all day to dust, Wash sheets and air out the beds. Not just mine and dads, but also the beds from the other two rooms. It was impossible getting all of them up and down the stairs. I don't even know why it's important to air out beds, but according to my father it is. Whatever... I don't even want to think about tomorrow. Packing up Marie's things and finding a place to store everything. It's just creepy going through a dead persons things, deciding what you want to keep and what to throw away and what to put up in a box.

"Carolina! I need some help down here, do you mind?"

Great, dad's calling... Normally I would say yes, I do mind. But right now I am too tired for sarcasm and the inevitable chore he has for me downstairs. Wow too tired for sarcasm... Am I sick?