So we moved this past weekend. Again. I just made a quick review of how many times I’ve moved in the past few years. Ready for it? Since 2004, when I left my dad’s studio apartment in Condado, Puerto Rico on account of me being an irresponsible, unreliable, incomparable slob with not an ounce of aim in life, I’ve moved ten times. Sorry, I made a mistake there… The correct figure would be ten fucking times.
I know, right?
Six of those have been with Marie, beginning in 2007 when we decided to move together to Paseo del Bosque in Santurce and ending with this past weekend. Six times in four years. And yes: I said ending, because this is it; this is where we make our stand, plant our roots, make a home… All that good shit.
The move itself was uneventful, and it went pretty smoothly thanks to Reggie & Robert, the guys Fox Moving sent. These men kicked ass, and had us completely moved (save for smaller stuff, like cleaning tools & products we needed to clean the old apartment) in four hours. We got them massive quantities of water and a big Mexican lunch from La Alteña. They were great.
That was Friday. Saturday began the heavy lifting for us, starting with cleaning the Southside Flats apartment. Cleaning an empty apartment is always fun, but it was tiring and took a couple of hours longer than we expected. In the end, though, it was spotless. We had run into Arne & Emma during breakfast that morning, an unexpected and welcome surprise, and then visited them that night for burgers at their place (also welcome, as we were famished by then). Short visit, but great conversation, as always.
Sunday was spend an insane amount of money on fixtures, paint and a few odds and ends day. Then, lots of moving things around, lots of cleaning around the house (specially the kitchen, because —as Marie so eloquently put it— it was clean, by bachelor standards), and discovering 3-way switches around the communal areas. Tons of unpacking, too, as well as installing fixtures.
I decided to take Monday off from work to finish off some stuff that I had wanted to do over the weekend and hadn’t found the time, like installing more fixtures, moving the garden hose holder to the front of the house and other minor stuff around the house. I took it easy and called it a day early on Monday, so I could get up early today and ride, carry and shit-my-heart-is-about-to-explode-right-out-of-my-chest my bike to work. (More on biking to work and my complete lack of physical condition in another post.)
Overall, a good move, and one we are very satisfied with. Here are a few things I learned…
On garden hoses:
25 feet ain’t shit. Seriously, it’s nothing. Good enough, I suppose, for early gardening on the front of the house. Once Marie gets into heavier gardening, however, we might need a longer hose. As for the back yard, where I hope to grow lots of vegetables and some fruit, I’ll definitely need a longer hose.
On installing light fixtures on the ceiling:
It will make you a Man. Or, at least, it’ll make your shoulders a Man.
— without first making sure to turn off the breaker:
It will make Lady of House very angry. It’s also very stupid.
— by haphazardly holding the pendant in place with empty boxes that may very well tip over at the slightest breeze, destroying the pendant lamp yet leaving Man of House unscathed:
Does not seem to make Lady of House angry at all. It would seem she is genuinely concerned with one’s well being. That, or the potential risk of costly hospital bills. Maybe both.
On (finally) owning a pocket knife:
I was right all along. I did need a damn pocket knife. It wasn’t only an ooh, shiny object with sharp edges and a pointy end fetish. Also, nothing gets torn open anymore; everything is now cleanly cut open in a controlled and manly fashion. Fuck yeah.
On those few things I left behind to pick up on the last ride because I’m so good at judging amounts of things:
It’s a trap. The things are not few. One needs at least two additional “last rides”.
On that 2:30 feeling:
This is interesting: That mid-afternoon crash would seem to have something to do with sitting at a damn desk. There’s something about physical activity and sweat that makes my afternoons go by beautifully without needing a shot of espresso or a nap. All weekend long (all four days of it!) I experienced this. I think there’s something to that, and I’ll look into it, as I’m interested in minimizing my dependency on coffee to stay alert. I like to enjoy my coffee, and I find that my dependency on it hinders my enjoyment of it.
Macchiato for thought. Ahem! Sorry.
On moving to a house with a yard as an apartment-dwelling city slicker:
It feels right for me in ways I hadn’t expected. I was expecting a bit of psychological resistance, particularly early on. Yet aside from a short panic during one of the days before moving day, I’ve actually felt very good about it. This is right for me, and it is right for us. Fuckin’ aye.