Hello! I’m finally reporting in from the other side of the move. We only uprooted 2.4 miles—a longish stroll, really, but a move is a move and even a short one can make you feel like you’ve traveled a very great distance.
The move itself went smoothly but was exhausting. Six professionals did the bulk of the heavy lifting—including a hair-raising transfer of our tall upright Yamaha piano. A number of men from our church joined them at the new house and helped unload all the boxes once we arrived. Bless them!
Two friends brought dinner and another stopped by that evening with freshly laundered sheets and helped make the bed. (What a treat—something to offer when other friends move.)
As luck would have it, the next week was full of can’t-say-no commitments—mostly for M.J. who was asked to speak at a memorial service for an old friend at the beginning of the week and officiate at the wedding of some of his students at the end. Work and other night time commitments kept him away from home and I was left alone to unpack while doing battle with the cable and phone companies—a challenge worthy of an entire unpleasant blog post but I’ll spare you.
Meanwhile construction continued. Gustavo was able to get the stove, cooktop and dishwasher in the morning (!) of the move. But the refrigerator—where this whole kitchen appliance switcheroo began–was still on backorder. About that time, Steve attempted to repair a few busted boards in the front walkway before painting and discovered this–
We knew all the decks of the house needed some work, but we didn’t realize how significant the dry rot was at the front. Thank goodness the walkway held through the move and no one was injured, but we couldn’t just slap a coat of paint on it and ignore it. So everyone shifted focus to the front deck.
The refrigerator arrived just after the walkway was finished but the interior entry stairs to the main level were steep enough that the deliverymen decided it was best to take the long way around. Here they are lifting all 500 lbs. up the back deck stairs on a misty morning (such weather we get up here).
I’d like to say that was the end of the refrigerator saga, but alas, it continues. Though Gustavo had carefully measured and allotted for the specified refrigerator dimensions, when he came to install it, the refrigerator fit in the space but didn’t have enough room for the doors to clear. Furthermore, one of the handles the appliance company delivered was too short and couldn’t be attached.
We decided to take a break from all things kitchen related until Monday. And I spent some time outside trying to take the long view.
But today, Monday, I’m writing this to the familiar sound of a drill running as Gustavo and his coworker Geo modify the refrigerator opening again.
It’s easy to focus on how far we have to go, but I should also note how far we’ve come. We can find clothes in the closet and food in the cupboards. The laundry is up and running and the garage door opener finally works. Last night for Father’s Day we straightened up the living room (isn’t that what most Dads like to do on their day?) I’ve added a new jute rug from West Elm and had the painters paint our old bookshelf a dark grey (BM “Iron Mountain”). We haven’t filled it with books yet and the new slipcover still needs to be hemmed but at this stage of the game I’m less concerned with perfection and more grateful for the many things that are perfectly fine.
