3 days...1 week tops.

Three days...one week...tops. Famous last words of our flooring guy. Seriously...how do these people manage to make a living...oh wait...that's right, residents like us don't know how/have time to install hardwood floors and are therefore at your mercy. So, needless to sat, we've passed the three day mark. We've passed the one week mark. They were installing floors today...let's hope that it lasts.

My dearth in postings is due to the fact that every waking moment that hasn't been spent working or moving has been spent painting. I inherited by dad's nose and my mom's eyes, but neither of them passed their painting gene to me. I suck, and I'm okay with that. They, on the other hand, don't suck at painting. In fact, they're quite good. Mom can cut in (that's painting talk for painting the top of the wall without getting one drop of it on the ceiling) with the best of them. This weekend, my parents came to visit and painted. Mom on the ladder. Dad holding the bottom. Hubby and I were listening to them quietly bicker while we painted the need-no-painting-skill door frames a room away. Going through this renovation has made me appreciate my parents' ability to stay together throughout all that they have done. Renovating is a stressor. It is a constant stress on the indivdiuals and on the couple. Hubby and I have a pretty darn good marriage, and this renovation has pushed us to our share of squabbles, meltdowns (okay, that one is mostly me), and financial freak outs (that one is mostly hubby). What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right? Well, our relationship muscle is going to be ready for Olympic weight lifting by the end of this project...whenever that may be.

Everything has been running behind/taking longer/requiring more permits, etc. We are out of the leaking he#$-hole formerly known as our apartment. Our lease was up July 1, and we thought FOR SURE that we'd be in the house by then...silly novices. Our realtor (God bless her soul) allowed us to move into her house while she is honeymooning and is now living with her husband. She is amazing, and her house totally rocks. Needless to say, my tolerance for inconsistent contractors just increased. As long as A doesn't sell her house, I'm content to stay. Actually, if we should happen to sell the house that we haven't gotten to live in yet and anyone has an extra $200K lying around and wants to throw it my way, I'll gladly purchase A's beautiful old home with all of its quirks and creaky floors. I've grown fond of mowing the lawn, watering the plants, and sitting on the porch. I love walking to the gym and the park. Hubby gets upset because he wants me to like our house as much as I like this one. We'll get there...someday.

Clutterbuster

Simple living is an aspiration. Yesterday, the clutter and disorganization put me over the edge. It began this weekend. It was a busy weekend...I got a haircut, we did errands, in-laws came out for lunch and the holiday home tour, we volunteered in the frigid night air to break pieces of a 7 foot candycane and pass them to passersby as part of our downtown volunteering, acquired Christmas gifts, wrapped Christmas gifts, and then watched the Ravens lose...boo! Yesterday, I drove to APG and spent the day NOT getting the things done that I needed to due to power loss, people being out of the office, unexpected meetings, etc. Anyway, finally arriving home in the frigid dark winter air, I made my way through the alley when I realized that I had forgotten my latop. So, I trudge back to the car, load up my arms, and head for the alley again. As a gust of wind whipped me, my TJs bag broke and my food fell to the ground. So, with my giant gloves, I clumisly loaded the displaced goods into the other bags. I navigated my way through the two alley doors to find a police officer at the doorstep. I was just relieved to see someone who might help me with the bags! I must have looked quite disheveled. He was asking about a neighbor....it's so strange to learn about neighbors from the police. Anway, I made it inside, dropped the bags and called Matt. Then, the clutter really hit me. Tiny apartment already filled with owner's junk (er, I mean stuff). Add to that all of our stuff, plus our growing pile of wrapped and unwrapped Christmas gifts, plus the groceries now in a messy heap on the threshold of the kitchen/dining area, plus my laptop, two work bags, folders, and dishes still in the sink (major pet peeve), I lost it!! Too much clutter. I couldn't think. I didn't feel well. Everything was chaotic. I managed to pull it together and start dinner where things just got worse. Nothing fit right in the tiny refrigerator and the cauliflower that I was cooking seemed to spontaneously explode everywhere! Matt tried to console me, but I was too agitated. He convinced me to go for a walk with him in the 20 degree weather (before factoring in the icy wind). The walk helped. I came back and went to bed.

I spent time before work (from home!!!) straightening the house and cleaning up. Much better. Work has been very productive so far. Clutter (house and mind) has been effectively busted...at least until the next episode.

The Purpose of Storm Windows

In theory, storm windows are supposed to protect "real" windows from stormy weather, to muffle outside noises, and to provide insulation to keep warm air in and cold air out. Theory does not equal practice. We had a big storm last night, and the storm windows created more noise than they prevented by clanging against their metal tracks as they were buffeted by the wind and rain. That clanging kept all of us (even the cat) awake for most of the night.

The "storm" continues in the apartment today after 469 pounds of clothes, housewares, toiletries, and furnishings from Germany were delivered. I was very happy to see some of my sweaters and most grateful to see my tea, but not so pleased with rearranging the apartment yet again. I feel like a magician, or a physicist, trying to create empty space where none exists (thanks to subletting from a landlord who didn't expect to sublet and therefore left all of her belongings including her John Deer collection here). So, after three furious hours of unpacking, repacking, and checking to make sure that the cat didn't fall into one of the paper filled boxes, I still have a mess...perhaps organized chaos is a more appropriate term. I have piles for donation and storage of my clothes. I realized that I can live much more simply with fewer clothes. I have piles for recycling and trash (which thankfully is picked up tomorrow), and piles for hubby to go through to determine into which of the aforementioned piles his belongings will go. And yes, I did leave him half of the space in the closet and half of the shelf above.

Our appraisal for the house we are still trying to buy came in lower, much lower, than expected, forcing us to come up with more money for closing, which is supposed to be tomorrow. So, we did the money shuffle last night and we should be okay. HOWEVER, our realtor found out that the appraiser didn't count 1 of our bedrooms and 1 of our bathrooms in the appraisal, and she didn't use the comps that were relevent (e.g., the rowhome next door that sold four months ago). Ugh! Our realtor is conversing with the appraisal company, trying to get the appraisal corrected. Thank you, dear realtor, for being our storm window and protecting us from the elements. Our bedroom storm windows could learn from you!

Welcome

Welcome to my new blog.

To say that life has been chaotic lately would be an understatment. Check out my previous blog, Dinks in Deutschland, for more on that. In brief, we lived abroad for a year. We traveled a lot and saw amazing things. We were constantly on the go and enjoyed it. But, hubby couldn't find a job which made him a sad boy, my job and some of my colleagues got just plain weird, and everything seemed very complex. So, we decided to move back to the States. So far, things haven't been much less busy.

Here's the recap:
Friday: Drug our cat. Ride in Mercedes Taxi at 220 kilometers per hour to the airport. Ride on plane. Arrive at Dulles.Drive to Frederick. Get keys to apartment over tattoo parlor. Go to Target and buy cleaning supplies. I missed Target. Clean apartment over tattoo parlor while husband meets with contractor. Did I mention that the first contractor deal fell apart a week prior to closing, but let's not dwell on that. Drink wine that husband brought home after a good meeting with the contractor. More cleaning. And wine-drinking.

Saturday: Wake up at 4:00 because that is 10:00 in Germany. More cleaning. Walk to get husband a cappuccino at one of the many, that's right...many, cafes in town that sell european coffee. Errands. Meet with contractor again. Decline invitation to see Dracula at the local theater. Grocery shop at Trader Joe's and rediscover that I can EAT so much more here than in Germany (due to my increasing food allergies). Go to bed at 8:00.

Sunday: Wake up at 2:00 because I had too much wine and chocolate Saturday. Drive to the in-laws to pick up the car that they generously let us borrow. Drive home to our now clean if not slightly cluttered apartment. Do errands and wait for husband to return after picking up clothes from his friends' house where he had been staying and checking in on our rental property. Drink wine, research home stuff, pray that the contractor comes through, watch a movie, and for the first time in a while, simply enjoy one another's company.

So that is the background. I'm now living in a town that I love, near the family that I love, with the husband that I love (oh, and I cat that I love, too). I cried at the beauty of it all yesterday. Walking on the cobblestone and brick sidewalk next to the 19th century homes with the setting sun casting shadows through the autumn leaves. It was just too much. Pinch me. I am a happy girl. And my husband is a stressed, but happy boy. For what it's worth, I think that our cat is happy, too.

I am looking foward to settling down. After moving around for the past 10 years, both hubby and I are ready to be in a place where we can really LIVE. Not just reside or work or sleep, but really LIVE. I want to walk in town...everyday. I want to buy local and eat local and make local friends. I want to be involved in local community and maybe even local politics (gasp). I want to be unabashedly myself, my quirky, happy self. And I want to chronicle the journey here.