Now comes the fun part (day 3 of real homeownership)
For the last five days I feel like I’ve been MIA, and by MIA I mean allowing my emails to wrack up to 70 or 100 (which stresses me out!), ignoring voicemails and texts because I am buried in a box or a closet somewhere, or losing track of time completely because of the rare and fortunate time off of work – which is totally awesome, by the way.
Today I planted tomato seeds; rummaged through old wedding photos; sanded and painted the laundry area; rearranged bookshelves; took a trip to The Container Store; hissed at my cats (to get off the tomato pots); felt guilty about all the clothes I have but do not wear; and cooked some delicious swiss chard and quinoa for our first “real” dinner in our (empty and echo-ey) dining room .
It was glorious.
Now I am half-watching Jeopardy (Mike is training for his upcoming online try-out for the show) and feeling sorry for myself for having to retrieve work clothes from the laundry and get ready for real life again.
Random observations/thoughts from the last week:
- CATS HATE CHANGE. Rocket and Bodhi are actually doing fairly well, save for the random moments of roaming from corner to corner of the house and howling loudly at the walls and ceiling (???) and vomiting (just a few times) from nerves. All in all, though, they seem to be adjusting.
- My attic is hot. And rather impractical, unless you feel like preemptively opening windows or turning on AC. It’s probably not a good third bedroom, but it will be an awesome hot yoga room. Sloped ceilings lend themselves to inversions/handstands.
- I know nothing about gardening. Despite my mother being Martha Stewart on steroids, and my Dad a landscaping genius, I have never planted anything or even kept alive a houseplant for longer than 3 months. This frightens me. But I will try. I don’t know the difference between weeds and a rosebush, but with enough advice from family and friends, and Youtube how-to videos, anything is possible, right? I hope so.
- I can yell as loud as I want (at Mike or the cats) and no one will hear me. It’s awesome.
- I have successfully fended off the man cave/ overly ridiculous sports-theme creep that can happen when men think about decorating a room of their own. I acquiesced in allowing Mike to place a hockey puck (signed by a Penguins player) and a tiny piece of glass from the NHL winter classic by our new flat screen, which gives me a headache by the way. His sports paraphernalia remains there. Also, there is a tiny velvet black bag containing actual water from the hockey arena in Pittsburgh – it is cruddy water that to me seems like the equivalent of jarring some ocean water from Mexico (why would you ever host that prominently ANYwhere in your house?) – but his Dad gave it to him, so it sits by the TV (awkwardly). I will allow it, if it means avoiding Steelers posters and other yellow things in the basement.
- I’m starting to understand the appeal of suburban living. To be clear, we live in Clintonville – which is still very much in Columbus, city proper. But five miles makes quite a difference. It’s nice to hear the sound of children playing basketball and laughing (and a random neighbor playing a trumpet?) as opposed to the sound of sirens, helicopters overhead, and drunken fights outside of Sunset Lounge, a very creepy bar across the street from our old apartment where stabbings were probably as common as good happy hour prices.
That’s all for now. Sorry (once again) for the very random nature of this post.