Went by the old house today to get the mail. Couldn't go inside as the baby had only a limited number of transitions to/from carseat that she would tolerate. I didn't want to waste one knowing I had other stops, and I'll be going by the house one more time before the Handing Over of the Keys anyway. But I looked in the front window and was sad... It's all empty and devoid of life. That was our first house, and though I am overwhelmingly glad we moved to this larger, brighter, airier Burbhaus, it's still hard to let go. We brought Delia home to that house. We remodeled the bedrooms. We learned a lot about home ownership there.
But we hated the neighbors and this house is nicer, burby as it is, so I can't really in all honesty get too weepy.
We spent last night unpacking, an activity that will no doubt take us the better part of a month to really complete. (As will typing this blog entry if the cat keeps jumping up here to "assist" me. Emphasis on the ass part, as she keeps sticking her furry little cat butt right up in the screen. It was even more frustrating when I was trying to waste time playing a game.) Anyway I got the books unpacked and shelved -- alphabetically of course, with a nod to those halcyon days spent as a page at the Central Library. Well, the fiction is alphabetical. Other categories of books are a little more loosely grouped and not so rigorously organized. In general. Really, if I could do it all over again, I'd be a librarian...
We are in purge mode, jettisoning all the crap that we were horror-stricken to find had followed us here. I have a generous box devoted to Goodwill or garage sale or whatever we end up doing with it. Otherwise we will find new homes either with friends, family, or in the landfill for other stuff, as appropriate. Naturally only the real garbage will go to the dump. Good but unwanted stuff will be farmed out, swapped, freecycled, or whatever. Donated, if nothing else.
Well, must run and make it look as if I have done something productive here today, which will take some doing since I haven't. Other than pick up the mail, return some fishtank filters that were the wrong size, and keep the baby alive and fed for one more day.
Speaking of the fish, he is the happiest damn diseased goldfish in the world. He's swimming around that tank like it's Christmas every day. Go figure. Go fish!