We moved. I'm happy about it.
Our new place is a little smaller than the last. We're happy with it though. We have a garage, which makes less square footage not such a big deal. We have a little yard; Bonnie loves playing outside. We have so many windows that we don't ever have to use lights in the daytime. Natural lighting is the best. We've got heavy screen doors (the iron kind with deadbolts), which means that we live with the doors open, having the breeze come through and listening to birds in the trees all day long. We live on a street with other houses instead of in an apartment complex. All around, it just feels good to be here. We don't have room for our enormous dining set--it's stored in the garage--but who are we kidding? the table served most of it's time as a place to store clutter anyway.
I'm closer to work. I figured that with the time savings in the commute I spend two fewer hours per week in my car. That makes a big psychological difference for me. I'm happier. We live down the street from the library. Blake and Bonnie go there for activities on Wednesdays and toddler story time on Thursdays. There's a park across the street from the library. This is a good place for us.
Hello house. Hello neighborhood. Nice to get to know you.
P.S. I LOVE having visitors. Please come visit me. Don't let the fact that we live in a little place deter you.
Sunday, July 1, 2012
On leaving our apartment
We moved. I was sad.
A few years ago I wrote a post about how many different places I've lived. Long story short, I've moved a lot. I'm something of a nomad, though not always by choice. We lived in our last apartment for almost 3 years. That's an eternity for me. The move was a good thing, but I still feel pretty sad about leaving our place.
We've lived the majority of our married life there. We've hosted so many friends and family members there. I went through graduate school there (mostly). Our baby was born there. We didn't just live there when she was born; she was literally born in that apartment. She took her first breaths there. She rolled over and crawled and cut teeth and said first words in that apartment.
I cried to see it all empty. All traces that we were ever there are gone: the carpets cleaned, the walls patched, the tubs scrubbed.
Goodbye apartment, goodbye old home. Thanks for everything.
A few years ago I wrote a post about how many different places I've lived. Long story short, I've moved a lot. I'm something of a nomad, though not always by choice. We lived in our last apartment for almost 3 years. That's an eternity for me. The move was a good thing, but I still feel pretty sad about leaving our place.
We've lived the majority of our married life there. We've hosted so many friends and family members there. I went through graduate school there (mostly). Our baby was born there. We didn't just live there when she was born; she was literally born in that apartment. She took her first breaths there. She rolled over and crawled and cut teeth and said first words in that apartment.
I cried to see it all empty. All traces that we were ever there are gone: the carpets cleaned, the walls patched, the tubs scrubbed.
Goodbye apartment, goodbye old home. Thanks for everything.
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