My quads and calves are still a bit stiff, but my hips and butt are feeling better. Got up at 9, took my medication. Am putting off moving my computer out onto the coffee table, where it will live until we get the wireless figured out because there's no cable jack in the spare bedroom (now the computer/craft room). I can't remember if our installation appointment is from noon to 3 or 2 to 5, but we'll be here all day; we don't have the energy to go anywhere.
It is a very
good thing we were able to move this past weekend, and not next weekend, because Nigel was lifting stuff a lot heavier than I was (including hauling my behemoth of a computer desk up the stairs on the dolly all by himself), and if my own stiffness is any indication (and I think it is) he would not
have been ready to start work the next day, or even the day after.
As the matter stands, he's thinking of calling them up and saying he can actually start coming in on Thursday or Friday. We've got to get back up to the other place tomorrow to clean and get the last of our stuff--mostly Nigel's computer, his desk, and my chair (left behind because it was the smaller and can fit in a car). He left the desk in case we couldn't get the internet hooked up right away, so that he can cancel our other phone and whatnot, because he has that stuff set up online. But since we are
getting it hooked up fairly quickly (go figure, the company understands that we need phone1
and internet service to be able to live our lives), I can't help thinking it was a mistake to leave the furniture--he could have used his computer on the floor for that kind of quick stuff if absolutely necessary, and I have misgivings about it all fitting in my car.
But that's probably because I still picture his monitor as being this behemoth of a thing that he used to have, and not the flat screen thing it is now. (I use "flat screen" to mean the little skinny kind, even though my big deep monitor technically has a flat screen
. I don't know what the actual term is to distinguish them. But I definitely want one of the other kind someday.)
I am making plans for all the things I want to ask permission to do. I want to hang pictures, put up curtains, there's a spot at the bottom of the balcony door where the weather stripping doesn't go all the way down and I want to fix that. This is mostly really minor stuff, but I'm hoping that if I ask nicely for every tiny little thing they will be on my side if I ever, say, get up the nerve to ask to paint. (It would be a light color, and we would paint the walls back to white before we moved out, and put down drop cloths, obviously.)
I have a Victorian fashion plate (it says "LA MODE ILLUSTREÉ Bureaux du Journal 56 rue de Jacob Paris" and looks to be late 1860s or thereabouts) and some little mass-produced bare-canvas paintings (or "paintings") of dress forms and things that I want to put up in my sewing area. I've currently got my antique (or vintage, or something) bookshelf set up, with all my YA and craft-related books on it, next to the rocking chair my parents bought when I was a baby2
, with a desk lamp pointing down on it because that's going to be my hand-sewing chair. And then my sewing machine is sitting on the floor in front of the outlet where I'm going to plug it in, and the chair I'm going to use is next to that, and then the little plastic three-drawered wheeled thing that I used to keep my nail polish in and which is now going to become the home for bobbins, thread, and notions of all kinds. There will probably be room in the bottom drawer for current knitting projects or something.
Anyway, my little sewing corner is under, like, a sort of lower portion of the ceiling--it's straight out from the top edge of the door frame for about three feet, and then it rises a foot to the regular ceiling height. It's a cozy little spot. Also, it's straight across from the window, and I didn't want to put one of the computers there because there'd be no getting away from the glare on the monitor. Nigel's computer will have the window behind
it, but that won't be as bad, because he can close the blinds. And I've got the doors on my desk/armoire-thing that can be manoeuvred to block out the light.
But so: by the time I get to post all these Moving Diary posts, we'll have our new phone number, and those of you who are entitled to that will have it. And tomorrow we're going back up north to clean, and maybe we'll see my mom3
, and then on Thursday we're going to hit a couple furniture stores and pick out a couch and chair.
And then once we're unpacked enough that I know where the rags are, I can dust the hell out of everything, and when we get the bleach down here, I'm going to disinfect the kitchen sink. You never know what happened to your sink before you moved in (unless it's new construction). We have already found several little tiny toys in the corner and one piece of dog food.4
The people before us did not clean very thoroughly at all before they left, which is why we vaccuumed the whole place before we moved anything in.
And what else I have to do, between now and Friday, is find the damage checklist in the packet they gave us and go through and make sure there's not anything that we missed on the walkthrough when we signed the lease. I mean, nothing we don't already know about. The spare bedroom has a door stopper of the same kind as the ones in the bathrooms, but there are baseboards in the bathrooms and there aren't any in the bedrooms, and the stopper thing has punched a hole into the wall; I'm pretty sure that got missed. Then there isn't a sprayer attachment on the kitchen sink, but there's a hole for one, and I want to see what can be done about that; I'd like to have the hole plugged, at least, because I don't want water dripping down under the sink. Not that it will probably be a problem, really, since we aren't going to be washing a lot of dishes in the actual sink.
Because we have a dishwasher
. That works
. Not a dishwasher-shaped empty-bottle-storage cabinet.
Also, we have unpacked our wedding dishes.
Also also, Nigel's grandmother wants to come and visit us here. I told him she needs to do it; it'll be great. She seems to like me now, after she's had a chance to realize I'm not actually some slut5
that's ruining her grandson's life6
; also we still have her cake plate and the topper that was on the little one-tier wedding cake she baked for us when she found out we were married.7
Since Nigel doesn't seem willing to get a box and ship them back to her, it will save a lot of trouble if she comes and visits; we can give them to her then.
And, surprisingly, I like her rather a lot for her being someone who insulted me so deeply the first time we met, and who is so conservative. I think it's the fact that she hates Nigel's dad as much as I do.1. We're bundling everything through the cable company. It's cheaper than the phone company, and we get free long distance this way, which is good because everybody we know (apart from Nigel's work) lives outside of the local calling area. Even aprilmayinjune, to whom we now live a lot closer than we did (enabling me actually to hang out with her once in a while), is a half hour or so away and will be long-distance. So it will mean I can call everyone all the time and talk forever, and y'all that I know in real life, it means you can call me and have me call you right back and talk as long as we would if we were living in the same town.
2. When my sister was a baby, they bought a rocking chair, and rocked her in it, with the intention of giving it to her when she grew up and moved out, and then they did the same for me when I was born. I think the original thought had been that we could then rock our own babies in that chair, and pass it on, but that kind of didn't work out; whatever our differences, my sister and I do have one thing in common, and that's that we're both childfree.
3. I'm kind of hoping we don't catch her tomorrow, actually. She keeps saying she "doesn't know" if she's going to come through this way when she drives back down to Florida, and I require her to come and see my new place. To this end, I have brought with me a photo album I know belongs to my sister (and not to me), so I can insist my mom come and pick it up to drop off on her way down. Not seeing her tomorrow--the last time, I think, we'll be up there for a while--will give me another excuse to make her come here. I only got to see her for half an hour on Saturday as it was. She never visits me for very long, and she stays overnight at my sister's house. (Which reminds me: we should try to get a sleeper sofa so people can crash here.)
4. This is actually not nearly as filthy as our old apartment currently is, but we are going back there to scrub the place to within an inch of its metaphorical life. So it all evens out. In a related story, I fucking told you I would care a lot more about cleaning if I was living in a decent place.
5. She didn't use that actual word, of course. She's every bit as proper a lady as one would expect a Yorkshire girl, who used to work in t' mill when she was young, moved to America, married middle-class, lost her husband, married upper-class, and has never stopped trying to compensate for her start in life, to be. (She's tried to lose the accent, too, but I can still hear it. Needn't have bothered, really; this is America, where any vaguely British accent connotes wealth, class, and education.) She talked about "playing house" in a certain tone. Now that I've actually married him, and she's seen I knit and sew, she seems to approve of me.
6. I was actually the main reason he stayed in school. I helped him find a program he actually enjoyed and that he could actually finish.
7. For those of you just tuning in, we have encouraged Nigel's family to believe we got married at the courthouse; he didn't feel we could invite any of them without his dad finding out, crashing the wedding, and ruining the day.