With just a week to go, I’m feeling restless and bored with the menial duties a move demands and overwhelmed and underwhelmed and eager for it to be April-the-somethingth-after-the-move when we’re settled and our favourite things are no longer buried in a mountain of boxes.
Things are progressing nicely, but there’s still SO much to do. SO much to organize. I’ve been here for 13 years. Sorting through 13 years of life is no small feat.
I keep wondering when the flood of nostalgia and its good friend anxiety will come in.
So many memories, but I refuse to let them in because I need to be productive.
So far, so good.
Just get ‘er done.
Mostly, I’m constantly reconciling my frustration with folks not working on my timelines and according to my expectations with the knowledge that my timelines and expectations of others are pretty unreasonable. As a single, recovering teen mum, I became used to needing to stay seven steps ahead in the game knowing that outside forces will always knock me back by six. That one step in gain is what has kept me going, pushing ever forward. It has done me well, but I can’t expect others to get it.
It feels a bit like fishing: let it go, tighten up the slack, reel it in. Rinse and repeat. Hurry up and wait.
My brain is one step in the past and two steps in the future because, in many ways, I’m very excited about leaving this house behind and starting again. It’s what I do. It’s what I’ve always done. Look ahead, not behind.
Our life in the new place will be quite different given that we’re going from a two-story, four-bedroom standalone house to a two-bedroom walk-up.
People keep asking about the kitchen. You guys, it’s almost hilariously small. But that has never stopped me before. I think back to the kitchen in my first proper apartment in which we learned the hard way that we would blow a fuse if we ran the oven and the microwave at the same time. The fuse box was oh so conveniently located in the landlord’s apartment and the landlord was almost never home. The night we learned this was the night we hosted our first dinner party. We had a meal of wings and potato fans – both done in the oven – planned and got about five minutes into cooking before all of the electricity to the kitchen failed and we had to daisy chain extension cords from the microwave in the kitchen to a live outlet in the living room so we could finish cooking our meal. I still almost poisoned our guests with woefully undercooked chicken wings, which we couldn’t really tell we’re undercooked in the candlelight. Oh, the good old days.
Our new digs has all new electrical and a very accessible breaker box.
I can live with a comically small kitchen. I’m almost looking forward to it after trying to keep clean a rather large, old school (1850s) back kitchen style kitchen. Less cleaning = more time for arting. Plus, I am positively giddy that the dining space just off the teeny tiny kitchen will fit my beloved, antique, Scandinavian oak dining table. With the leaves in, even!
I am having to purge some wonderful and sentimental pieces of furniture, but keep dreaming about how nicely the stuff I’m keeping will work in the space. There are great windows with rounded tops throughout it, so I know my plants will be happy and my rattan plantstands will look stunning against those. Perhaps I’ll finally get around to painting them the candy apple red I’ve always seen for them.
I’ve been fastidiously ogling small space ideas (the apartment isn’t small small – it just has wonkily small living areas with disproportionately large bedrooms and bathroom) across the intertubes which leads to probably more discussions about space things than Rob would like but are pretty funny as I staunchly remind him that no, plants will need to go there.
I’m not going to get into too many of my hopes and dreams for this pad, but I am excited about it.
All of that said, on top of the move, I am under a mountain of work and something’s gotta give. I’m choosing this here blog as one of the gives and going on hiatus until after things are a little more settled. I aim to be back in early April with a stockpile of recipes to share, probably some nasty words about Trump and hopefully a wee tour of the new place.