Moving along
Bit by bit the house is coming together. We're still drowning in boxes, though.
Spent all day Saturday at my old apartment with my parents, scrubbing the place with toothbrushes. The walkthrough is tonight. I'm anxious to get the apartment closed up and handed over once and for all. One less thing to worry about.
To my surprise, I'm not the least bit sad or nostalgic about leaving the old place behind. Six years was the longest I'd stayed in one residence in my entire adult life. I used to love living downtown, but now I can't wait to get out of there. I'm tired of the street noise, the next door neighbor's barking dog, the airplanes going overhead at 6:30AM, worrying about the safety of my car, and all the other pesky tenants who leave doors unlocked and seem to forget that they have neighbors. Tired of the leaky faucets, the windows that don't lock, worrying about scratching the hardwood floors†, the rattling exhaust fan, and people walking on my ceiling.
Anyway.
Weekend before last we set up my office in one of the downstairs bedrooms. Computers are up and running, stereo hooked up, books on shelves. And last weekend dumpsterboy braved Ikea to buy enough shelves to hold 750 CDs in the living room. Then we combined our collections and found that the total well exceeded 1000. We spent Sunday afternoon sitting on the living room floor, surrounded by 1000+ alphabetized CDs, arguing, debating and arm wrestling‡ over which 750 made the cut for the new shelves, which 200 or so were destined for my old unit downstairs, and which ones would be banished to the box in the closet.
Painting and all other cosmetic side projects are on hold until everything is unpacked. But who knows when that will be. Multiple people have warned that it can take at least a month or two unpack and set up a new house. It's only been two weeks, so I guess there's no point thinking too far ahead yet.
† Yes, hardwood floors are great. But they're cold and noisy, they feel gritty five minutes after vacuuming, and worst of all, I'm liable for every little scratch.
‡ Shame we didn't have any Jello™.
Spent all day Saturday at my old apartment with my parents, scrubbing the place with toothbrushes. The walkthrough is tonight. I'm anxious to get the apartment closed up and handed over once and for all. One less thing to worry about.
To my surprise, I'm not the least bit sad or nostalgic about leaving the old place behind. Six years was the longest I'd stayed in one residence in my entire adult life. I used to love living downtown, but now I can't wait to get out of there. I'm tired of the street noise, the next door neighbor's barking dog, the airplanes going overhead at 6:30AM, worrying about the safety of my car, and all the other pesky tenants who leave doors unlocked and seem to forget that they have neighbors. Tired of the leaky faucets, the windows that don't lock, worrying about scratching the hardwood floors†, the rattling exhaust fan, and people walking on my ceiling.
Anyway.
Weekend before last we set up my office in one of the downstairs bedrooms. Computers are up and running, stereo hooked up, books on shelves. And last weekend dumpsterboy braved Ikea to buy enough shelves to hold 750 CDs in the living room. Then we combined our collections and found that the total well exceeded 1000. We spent Sunday afternoon sitting on the living room floor, surrounded by 1000+ alphabetized CDs, arguing, debating and arm wrestling‡ over which 750 made the cut for the new shelves, which 200 or so were destined for my old unit downstairs, and which ones would be banished to the box in the closet.
Painting and all other cosmetic side projects are on hold until everything is unpacked. But who knows when that will be. Multiple people have warned that it can take at least a month or two unpack and set up a new house. It's only been two weeks, so I guess there's no point thinking too far ahead yet.
† Yes, hardwood floors are great. But they're cold and noisy, they feel gritty five minutes after vacuuming, and worst of all, I'm liable for every little scratch.
‡ Shame we didn't have any Jello™.