It's a Whole New World Out There

My move below the bridge and back to the 'city'.

I’m living near the water but not on the water. It’s going to take some getting used to, but I’m ready to call this town home.

Hi friends, thanks so much for sticking around, those of you who have. I thought I would be back at my desk long ago, but this is how it is: I moved in to my new digs a week ago with lots of help from my dear, dear family, but they’re gone now, and while it’s starting to look like somebody lives here, there are still U-Haul boxes everywhere, I’m seriously thinking of calling people in to start hauling stuff OUT.

Yes, I took too much. Those things I thought I absolutely had to have, couldn’t live without, are simply not welcome here. They don’t fit in to my new decor, whatever that may be. I’m happily filling bins to take to the thrift stores. Seriously. I paid to have the damn things hauled here and now I can’t wait to give them away.

All except the pictures. I could fill an entire room with my collection of family pictures, but they’re treasures accumulated over an entire lifetime, from both sides of our families, Ed’s and mine. Nobody else seems to want them yet so I’ll be the keeper of our memories.

I’ve scanned many of them so they’ve been digitized—is that the word?—but I can’t bear to throw any of the actual photos out. Not the ones including people, anyway. And there are TONS of them. I did manage to toss out many of the photos of people I don’t know. My family was terrible about neglecting to write names on the backs and I’m the worst of the bunch. “Who is that?”, they ask and I have to admit I don’t know. (I’ll never admit I might have taken the picture.)

The move went well, in that everything arrived intact. Nothing broken. But even with all of the help, both before and after, kids and grandkids and neighbors and friends, I haven’t worked that hard in years. Even my aches ache! (That word looks funny now. But never mind…)

I honestly didn’t think I had it in me to work that hard again. Kind of proud that I didn’t keel over and die from it. And here I am, with many, many days of work ahead, still unpacking, still figuring out where things will go if I do decide to keep them.

This apartment is big but for some ungodly reason the kitchen is teeny tiny. Why? I can’t even imagine. Barely any cupboards and the ones I do have are deep and narrow. Lots of upper cupboards, though, if I want to use a ladder. Hardly any counter space, either. Very odd.

No junk drawers, either.

But if I walk through the kitchen I enter the spacious laundry room, with a big wide counter above the washer and dryer and big deep cupboards above the counter. So I’m calling it the kitchen annex and everything that won’t fit in the kitchen will go in there. I’m going to decorate it like a kitchen. I have plans. Ha!

One of the bedrooms is my office now. My own office! I’ve ordered a new office chair and a mat to go over the carpet and shelving for the closet, and soon it will look like my own cozy work space. Then maybe I won’t wait so long to write again.

I’m getting there.

My new desk space. No water view, but I’m not looking at buildings, so that’s good.

My new neighbors upstairs are lovely people, which is a good thing because our front doors are so close together they’re practically conjugating. I have a new Ring doorbell and every time they go in and out my phone announces it. (I hope they don’t know this!) I’ll have to learn to ignore the ‘ping’ and only look when my doorbell actually rings. Maybe. (Never had a ‘Ring’ before. This was my kids’ idea, since of course I can’t see out of the peephole and I’m living in the ‘city’ now.)

I’ve been checking out my new complex and one of the first things I’ve noticed is that people leave bikes and other paraphernalia right outside their doors. Packages are delivered and left right on the porches, no problem. Everyone is friendly. It feels safe.

I think I’m really going to like it.

But I miss my island in the U.P, my view and my friends. And I especially miss Ed. There is no place in my new home where I can say, “This is Ed’s spot”. Nothing except pictures and his books and a few pieces of clothing placing him here where he should be. Along with me. On our new adventure.

I’ve bought a few pieces of new furniture but I brought along just enough of the old to make it feel like home. I want a little of each, the familiar and the new. I want it to still look like ‘us’.

So here I am. Once the cardboard is all thrown out and the furnishings are in place I’ll take more pictures. Right now it still has that warehouse look. Maybe in another week or so. Or longer. I don’t know, but I’m glad I’m back here, writing at my same old desk, at my grandmother’s pantry table with the red checkered oilcloth. It feels right again.

See you soon, luvs. 💕

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