We are officially no longer homeless or floating. We moved into our apartment Friday afternoon, the one day last week it didn’t rain. Three flights of stairs with boxes in your arms is no small task, luckily we don’t have much stuff with us at the moment. This means we’re sitting on the floor, sleeping on an air mattress - which apparently has a significant leak from the last time I used it - and eating whilst leaning on the kitchen counter. Neither of us thought we could last a month with that set up, especially the bed. Since then we’ve purchased two camp cots, two patio chairs and a folding aluminum table the size of a Monopoly board. The philosophy is if we’re going to spend the money then it must be on things we’ll continue to use. When the other stuff arrives probably sometime near the first week in April, I’ll have patio furniture ready to enjoy the summers that are promised to be fabulous, and cots ready if company should drop by before I get the futon or if I get to go fishing anytime soon. But for now, they’re filling in as box spring, office desk and chair, and reading chair, respectively.
The boss gave me Saturday off to finish getting settled. I thought that was nice of him. Turned out it was much needed after hauling boxes until 8pm, followed by a miserable night’s attempt at sleep. When we did manage to crawl off the floor, we went to breakfast – hadn’t retrieved the kitchen box from the boat/storage yet, so nothing to cook in – and went in search of our cots. Believe it or not, Camp World doesn’t have them. Ended up at Wal-Mart, tried both the ones they had, bought two, and promptly went home and took a nap. Later that afternoon, we went to empty the boat. It had been predicted as 100% chance of rain, but it was only misting so we got the last three boxes, tied down the tarp really well, and went home. That night while trying to watch a movie in the living room we learned you can tell the weather outside by listening to the fireplace.
Sunday Honey had a photo shoot with a girl I’ve taken to calling “children of the corn”. She’s creepy in Honey's pictures, alright? Last time they got kicked out of the location for being too close to the train tracks, so we went back on a day the train guys don’t work. After that he took me to the Chinese Gardens and Old Town Pizza, both places he’s discovered while tramping around without me. The gardens used to be a parking lot. The building next door that owned it, donated it for the gardens and voila! You have a very Zen retreat where ringing cell phones are not allowed. The flowers are just starting to bloom; in a couple more weeks it’ll be dazzling. Old Town Pizza is located in what used to be the lobby of a grand hotel. They have their own ghost and tours of the tunnels where patrons used to be shanghaied and forced to work on sailing ships. We want to take the tour, but haven’t yet. After that very filling and tasty experience, we went in search of Voodoo Doughnut, which we found by the huge line on the sidewalk. Apparently, the main location is the best known and therefore a tourist trap. Since we’ve never been and didn’t think we’d get a chance to read the menu, we walked down to the Saturday Market to browse and give the line a chance to go down (which didn’t work). The Market had too much good stuff, just like the first time. As usual, I want everything. There were metal pyramid-shaped wind chimes and a giant bell Honey wants to hang by the front door (it’s LOUD), strangely shaped stones you use for massage (the sign read “touch me” so I did), homemade jams and preserves of every flavor you can imagine and some you can’t (garlic or jalapeño jelly anyone?), all sorts of sparkly things that had my head on a swivel (call me a crow, I’m into shiny things!), as well as leather goods, stuff to spoil your cat, and barbeque sauce labeled “Pain”. On our way home we found the other Voodoo Doughnut location – it was the only pink building on the block – and ordered a dozen, let them pick, and went on our merry way. We weren’t home an hour before Honey decided this no-chairs situation just wasn’t going to cut it and off we went in search of patio furniture. I have to say, it do appreciate the chair. I finished the beanie I was working on, the first attempt at circular and double-pointed needles. It came out well, Honey likes it.
We’re still discovering the quirks of our new place – some more charming than others. Everything groans – the floors, the doors, and the bottom of my shower - the last one audible from the other end of the house. The washer is quiet; the dryer loud and slow. The stove is remarkably fast for an electric. Regardless, it's home for the duration.
The boss gave me Saturday off to finish getting settled. I thought that was nice of him. Turned out it was much needed after hauling boxes until 8pm, followed by a miserable night’s attempt at sleep. When we did manage to crawl off the floor, we went to breakfast – hadn’t retrieved the kitchen box from the boat/storage yet, so nothing to cook in – and went in search of our cots. Believe it or not, Camp World doesn’t have them. Ended up at Wal-Mart, tried both the ones they had, bought two, and promptly went home and took a nap. Later that afternoon, we went to empty the boat. It had been predicted as 100% chance of rain, but it was only misting so we got the last three boxes, tied down the tarp really well, and went home. That night while trying to watch a movie in the living room we learned you can tell the weather outside by listening to the fireplace.
Sunday Honey had a photo shoot with a girl I’ve taken to calling “children of the corn”. She’s creepy in Honey's pictures, alright? Last time they got kicked out of the location for being too close to the train tracks, so we went back on a day the train guys don’t work. After that he took me to the Chinese Gardens and Old Town Pizza, both places he’s discovered while tramping around without me. The gardens used to be a parking lot. The building next door that owned it, donated it for the gardens and voila! You have a very Zen retreat where ringing cell phones are not allowed. The flowers are just starting to bloom; in a couple more weeks it’ll be dazzling. Old Town Pizza is located in what used to be the lobby of a grand hotel. They have their own ghost and tours of the tunnels where patrons used to be shanghaied and forced to work on sailing ships. We want to take the tour, but haven’t yet. After that very filling and tasty experience, we went in search of Voodoo Doughnut, which we found by the huge line on the sidewalk. Apparently, the main location is the best known and therefore a tourist trap. Since we’ve never been and didn’t think we’d get a chance to read the menu, we walked down to the Saturday Market to browse and give the line a chance to go down (which didn’t work). The Market had too much good stuff, just like the first time. As usual, I want everything. There were metal pyramid-shaped wind chimes and a giant bell Honey wants to hang by the front door (it’s LOUD), strangely shaped stones you use for massage (the sign read “touch me” so I did), homemade jams and preserves of every flavor you can imagine and some you can’t (garlic or jalapeño jelly anyone?), all sorts of sparkly things that had my head on a swivel (call me a crow, I’m into shiny things!), as well as leather goods, stuff to spoil your cat, and barbeque sauce labeled “Pain”. On our way home we found the other Voodoo Doughnut location – it was the only pink building on the block – and ordered a dozen, let them pick, and went on our merry way. We weren’t home an hour before Honey decided this no-chairs situation just wasn’t going to cut it and off we went in search of patio furniture. I have to say, it do appreciate the chair. I finished the beanie I was working on, the first attempt at circular and double-pointed needles. It came out well, Honey likes it.We’re still discovering the quirks of our new place – some more charming than others. Everything groans – the floors, the doors, and the bottom of my shower - the last one audible from the other end of the house. The washer is quiet; the dryer loud and slow. The stove is remarkably fast for an electric. Regardless, it's home for the duration.
1 comment:
Ha haaaaaaa! “Children of the corn” girl. That cracked me up. :) xx
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