We’re getting there.
Appliances are in (and full of diet soda and water, apparently all we need in this world). New carpet has been chosen and is due to be installed next week, and two of the three rooms we need painted are complete. The master closet has been ripped out, the walls need patching, more flooring will have to be procured for there . . . and often, honestly, it feels like everything is one step forward and ten steps back.
But I know it has to get worse before it gets better. And we’re not doing “real” renovations; these are mostly cosmetic issues, though still things that must be fixed.
And we are fixing them. Through sheer force of will.
My aunt kindly came over Saturday to paint our master bedroom, and it looks fantastic! While she cut in around doors and rolled walls, I scrubbed rust and grime from the master shower with the enthusiasm of Cinderella under duress . . . but hey, we got it done. And the bathroom has morphed from a place where I would never want to be barefoot to a place I would only kind of agree to be barefoot, mostly because we have loose nails and staples covering everything like a sheen.
Keeps you on your toes! (Literally?)
Spence and I are tired but making progress, and the progress is more apparent the more we sweat. Saturday was a rare humid-free day in Maryland, so we opened up the windows and let a cool breeze wipe out the last of the stale air. It felt fresher, more open.
And after we’d done all that, it was time to work on the condo. Our apartment should be officially on the market today or tomorrow, and we literally ran like lunatics yesterday morning to make it look spacious, lovely and enticing. That meant cleaning (again! so much cleaning!) every surface we could see and getting, like, a third of our stuff out of there — especially in the master closet, living room and kitchen.
So with aching arms and a nauseous stomach, we packed and moved about 15 boxes. Everything is getting dumped in the basement. At one point over the weekend, I realized that every single thing in our apartment will have to be touched by Spencer or me — packed, sorted, stored, moved, unpacked and arranged in the new place. By us.
How do people move? I mean, I moved eight months ago — but that already looks pathetic compared to this move. And in the grand scheme of things, we have a normal level of stuff. It’s not like we own a mansion we must empty . . . this just your run-of-the-mill stash of twenty-something newlywed belongings.
If I sound tired, I am. I really am. I know this is only temporary and we’ll be moved and settled in less than a month, but that month feels long right now. Very long. June has been a whirlwind . . . and it’s already half over. As of tomorrow, we’ve officially owned the new house for a month — and though I can definitely see progress, it still feels very overwhelming.
Mondays are made for napping.
Or going back to work for nine hours . . . where I’ll get a “break.” Funny how that works, eh?