The break up and the recovery

A. and I are slowly unpacking our new house. With each piece of cardboard that is cleared and each space crisis averted (how do we own so many books/shoes/blankets and other sentimental and not particularly valuable items?), the house begins to feel more familiar and comfortable.

I read recently that moving out of your apartment is like breaking up with a significant other. Given the emotional exhaustion and initial heart break we experienced when finding our new house, I have to agree. But like any relationship ended, once you grow into your new space, you begin to wonder how you once were so attached to the previous way of living. There is unavoidably a good dose of humiliation that comes with acknowledging the heart break you experienced. Questions run through your head like, “How did I accept those abusive rent raises? I didn’t even have a backyard!” And the most embarrassing of all, “How did I think that life would not go on without you?”

Yesterday we had a party which means that a lot of unpacking happened. A. also accomplished the following pre-party:

1) Hanging pictures (the place now has a soul)
2) Weeding the back yard to discover herbs (tomato, oregano thyme..)
3) Fixed our fence

Talk about a handy roommate to have around. We have so much space in our backyard that it’s time to start thinking about winter garden beds. I’ll feel more committed to my bedroom as useful space once I have a book case installed.

Big list of desires for the house

1) install compost bin
2) Put in winter garden beds
3) Plant more herbs
4) Break up the patio space
5) Get storage shed cleared (to be done my rental agency)
6) Have blinds installed in rest of house (Also to be done by rental agency)

T minus very little

Well, tomorrow we start moving into the new place. Over the past week our lives have been a flurry of boxes, rags, and dusty sneezes. Our old place is (I'd say) 90% packed, and most of the remaining things are either necessities (forks, underwear) or the scurfy dandruff of doo-dads that life tends to accumulate. Mysterious kitchen implements. Take-out menus. Piles of ancient pens. Bottle caps carefully filled with exactly 5 thumbtacks. Credit card offers and orphaned tupperware lids.
If there is one thing that I hate about moving, it's the end of it all. Not the masochistic moment when you start un-doing all the work you've spent the last two weeks meticulously organizing (aka, unpacking), but rather the final six boxes. Trash cans emptied and filled with clothes hangers (for lack of another appropriate box). Piles of dusty cords and surge protectors. There's a deep-seated aversion to starting a NEW box, when you have a hall, livingroom, and bedroom full of boxes already. And yet that darn desk fan just ISN'T going to fit in the brimming boxes into which you keep trying to squeeze it.
Then there are the endless trips up and down the stairs. Boxes of books, boxes of food, boxes of dishes. Your life seems to turn into an endless Stairmaster driven by an endless army of anonymous cardboard.
Right now it's the calm before the storm. Time to plan, recruit friends, figure out where to get the celebratory pizza. Tomorrow, it all starts in earnest. And away we go!

Move-in!

Move-in day is rapidly approaching on the 10th. We are frantically packing up our present dwelling, and brainstorming ideas for what to do with the new place. We've cajoled some strong friends into helping (with the offer of free pizza), and we've put down that darn deposit.

So as far as the new place goes... first of all, we want to paint. We'll get some good before pictures up later, and some AWESOME pictures of the carpet. It's really ghastly! Some people's favorite colors! Sheesh.

Other projects in the brainstorming phase:

*Compost bucket. D says you can get them from the city for relatively cheap, AND they're rat-proof. This would help us cut back our garbage immensely. We have so much food that goes bad. And I'd get to play with worms. They're kind of like little squiggly pets.

*Winter garden. We are in the planning stages of finding some old dresser drawers to convert into little planter beds. I've done a very small amount of internet research into winter vegetables, and if we get our acts together in a hurry, we -may- be able to start some spinach, brussel sprouts, and a few other dark green veggies. This is also a good thing because it's the kind of food I need to incorporate into my diet in a BIG way.

*Save electricity! I am setting up a clothesline STAT (for my sheets at least!), and we'll be turning our water heater down to 115 or 120 degrees. Also, we're thinking of putting those garish flourescent lights in the outdoor sockets.

*Eating dirt and grass. We also have a big tree in the yard we could gnaw on if we're so broke from moving that we can't afford food. (Just kidding of course, though, you never know, bark could be the new "in" thing!)

Good morning!

This is the first post of a new endeavor.

As mentioned in the description, we were asked to move out of our lovely apartment in a fine part of town with short notice, and had to make the best of what we had available. The result? A funny old clap-trap house built in 1969. It's green, brown, and rather hideous.

Spoiled by posh living, but broke and eager for a change (and a project) D and I (A), have decided to track our excursion into greener, healthier, more frugal living... and also the transformation of our living space into something potentially better.

Keep in mind, it is a rental home, and thus subject to certain limitations as such. Our goal is to create an attractive place to live that is both inexpensive and potentially portable. Good luck to us.

We'll try to keep up with pictures, ideas in the works, and links to interesting tidbits as we go.