Moving was rough, and for every reason that you can think of. Many things went right, but lots of other things didn’t. This wasn’t an efficient, linear move, this was extremely frenetic and sometimes reactionary. Trying to work and run your businesses while your house is a wreck, directing movers, while talking to your employees, answering emails whenever you can, it was very distracting and stressful.
This was more than a move, this was an emigration. Trying to get 3200 sq feet of furniture, clothes, dishes, food and everything else was a nightmare. It was like me trying to get into my skinny jeans…. Virtually impossible. I can’t remember how many times, I said to Abby: “its probably just one more truckload”. In the end, we ended up needing more of the second storage space than I thought, which means I am not getting rid of it anytime soon. My budget isn’t tight, but this is a big disappointment to me. The one storage space is packed to the gills, it was really incredible how much the movers got in there, its like they all played Tetris as children.
We started moving Thursday, but ended up spending the first night in the condo 4 days later, on Sunday. It wasn’t horrible. Abby definitely knows how to make a house a home, it’s incredible to me. She has such a sense about where to put things, decorations, paintings, furniture, you name it. Its an amazing combination of logic, practicality and artistic ability, the latter which I don’t have. It comes effortlessly to her, and even if I disagree on where to put things, arguing with her doesn’t get anywhere. “RESISTANCE IS FUTILE”. I am notorious for vehemently opposing something, and then 5 minutes after the change is implemented, realizing that I like it better….so now I just don’t argue much, at least about that.
The condo, frankly, was in very bad shape. Everything needed(needs) to be replaced, or repaired. Since we got possession of it, we have replaced all windows and doors, installed lighting, repainted the walls, fixed plumbing, pedestal sinks, water heater, replaced carpets, closet doors, air vents that were encrusted with grease and human hair. We had to run wiring and install J-boxes in order to install ceiling fans. The mailbox was unsecured, so that was replaced, mounted and glued to the outside. We installed new curtains, new blinds, scraped popcorn off ceilings, air filters, and the list goes on and on. All of these decisions were made on the spot by me and mobilized very quickly, and the work is still ongoing. My wife was not shocked that I fixed things, but she was surprised at the extent of the neglect of the condo. She said she was happy with what I picked, which is cool, because we mostly have the same tastes. I’m an alpha, but I do have some situational beta in me.
The place is now livable, but that doesn’t mean it’s likable. We have a 114 year old fridge, probably built by Thomas Edison when he was a kid. It tilts to the left, much like the Titanic did before it sank. The kitchen is very very very small, and the cabinets are 50 years old. The stove is electric, and that really, bothers me for some uppity reason. The tile is decent, but wasn’t laid well and is cracking, so it definitely needs to be replaced. Adding the mix is our front door: at first I thought it was acceptable, even it didn’t look great. But then one evening, as we were drinking wine, we watched a cockroach saunter in right through a crack in the weatherstripping. I’m sure he has friends. After calls to pest control, we went and picked out a new door and security screen. I am in the middle of a major remodeling project on another house, and once that is done, then I can worry about the kitchen and flooring here. My wife is understandably stressed about all of this, but she mostly trusts me. For her, she just doesn’t want to hear about it. Dealing with money freaks her out, so I guess as long as I don’t tell her how much it costs, we should be good!