Home sweet

photo by Allison Brady

After searching for multiple ways to procrastinate from today's work, it's finally come to this. And I have been so successful in procrastinating from writing this blog!

At the end of the week we will be moving and somehow (miraculously) things seem under control. We may even eschew U-Haul and opt for using our own truck and our own muscles for labor. The BF and I are coming up with a series of safewords to insure we don't waste valuable time as every one knows moving can be so...stress free. I suggested the word trumpet, as it's in at least five different jokes I know, but he thought let's calm down could work just as well.

The only thing I am dreading is the final inspection and the cleaning of the house. Despite my captivating charm and overall cleanliness, the once blonde carpet is now more of a deep brunette. I seem to be missing at least one blind from an otherwise perfect Venetian. And those holes in the wall where I once tried to install an Ikea metal shelf, were, um, already there? I've heard rumor that these landlords are picky. They even offer a pre-inspection, a free service to all vacating tenants which, to my ears, sounds more like finding out if I have the breast cancer gene. I mean, do I really want to know how much money I am loosing?

Wait, I have an answer for that one. I do not.

But it seems like we don't have much of a choice. The neighbors have all been really friendly now that they know we are moving out. I've never had so many mailbox-conversations and it's not like we have a storage space that will be up for lottery. Perhaps it's the thought that we could be moving on to better things that brings out the nervous, chatty energy in folk. Or perhaps they are excited about the prospect of digging through all the crap we'll be getting rid of. Or maybe they just know something that we don't: like the fact that we were all really nice, albeit lonely people, looking for a point of entry to forge real relationships all along. That we move in a coupla days means we'll never know!

But I do know this. It has been a real treat to live here, and even though there is no decent sushi to be had anywhere on the island, nor a real market within walking distance, nor any rack from which to purchase Sunday's NYT, I will remember this time fondly. When you start feeling sentimental about the crazy shouting lady across the hall and her over-protective grizzly man-mate, when you reminisce about the teenagers who repeatedly scald the milk and char the coffee at your local coffee shop every morning, when you begin to wonder what will happen in your absence to the Little Caesars sign twirler and his teenage girlfriend who sits on the corner with him all day with their new baby in tow, then you know that you have truly embraced a place as home.