Moving out of Apartment Mode

We have been blessed.  We are in our new home!  But no, you can't see pictures yet because we haven't actually finished painting.  We got a huge helping hand from our church that has a special crew of people who come together to help people move.  They helped us finish most of the painting, and they threw all of our partially packed belongings into a trailer and then unloaded them on the on our blessed premises.  Blessing of all blessings, they helped us clean the apartment as we vacated it.  Of all the things I dreaded in moving, more cleaning was highest on the list.

So now we are moved in.  The kitchen, utility room, and bathroom haven't been fully scrubbed, but they are fully functional.  The diningroom and all the trim remain to be painted, and there's a nagging smell in the garage that I would like to find and eliminate before Christmas.  We're trying to replace an out-of-date fireplace insert (540 lbs of metal).  But we are home, and now begins the transition to being home owners and house dwellers again. 

The feeling of being house dwellers manifests itself in different places.  I appreciate the ease of opening the back door and letting the dog out to do his business.  He, I daresay, resents that I no longer have to walk him four times a day, but we're working through that.  And this morning, as I was making breakfast, I thought I'd like to run the dishwasher.  "Oh," said my apartment-trained mind.  "It's not eight o'clock yet."  Then my brain caught up with the rest of me and said, "Who cares? There's no one on the other side of the wall to be disturbed."  That thought was so refreshing that I went to the laundry room and started a load of wash too. 

The first time we bought a house, I was a little skeptical of Seth's need to call his four walls his own.  Now, I get it.  There's a certain blissful freedom in realizing that my daily noises disturb no one.

Of course, with freedom comes responsibility.  Now that the dog can go out whenever is convenient, I also have to go out there and pick up after him.  Personal garbage cans mean remembering to put the trash out.  And that great big beautiful birch tree in the front yard is about to drop a ton of leaves that we will have the joy of raking up of the ground and a little less pleasure digging out of the gutter (actually, my husband has allocated that job to himself.  I might try to salvage some of the saplings growing up there.  I could sell them on ebay.)  And every little thing that goes wrong is our responsibility to fix. 

That reminds me.  Don't let me get through this week without buying some DeCon, two packs of coat hooks, and a new doorknob for the utility door.  And there's mold in the bedroom, again.