Today is actually our last day here. After a frustratingly slow exchange with the woman in charge of long term rentals, finally we were notified that our new keys and contract were waiting for us at the office, and we could pick them up and start the process of tediously moving boxes 6 apartments down...
So at the moment I am currently taking a much needed coffee break, realizing that there is no food(having prepared it that way so we wouldn't have a bunch of leftovers to haul over), and the half and half is a little off, and all my clean clothes are in bags and my house is half in boxes and half all over the place.
We stopped at the realty office this morning and grabbed a key for the next apartment and decided to check it out on the way home. It was dark, quiet, empty, and small. The complex we live in is made up of duplexes. The apartment that I am currently packing up, makes up the right side of the house(if you're standing outside looking at the front), the new one is a left sided one. This means that the whole layout is flipped, with a few minor changes accounting for losing a bedroom. I didn't think that I was very attached to our place, but when that door opened I almost felt like crying.
It was dark, it was empty, we have no furniture, it smelled like weed and cleaning solution, and the next street over practically ran through the back yard.
It's exciting to see boxes slowly cover the counter surface and floor corners, but even after unpacking it will be empty. Kind of like living in a shell... We have probably another week until my husband's belongings from his previous station across the country actually arrive, bringing with it a TV stand, some miscellaneous items, and most importantly, A MATTRESS! And at this point only God knows how long it will be before a move is scheduled to bring all of my belongs on that 14hr drive down the coast from New England.
I have to chuckle to myself because of the constant warnings that I got before we got married. Mostly variations of:
And so far...that hasn't proven to be true. But my husband and I are a special case. We have known each other since we were 7 years old. Our families have been very close since shortly after we all met. For the past maybe 7years, maybe more 'cause I've lost count after all this time, we have done everything together. Christmas, birthdays, Easter, Thanksgiving. And for longer than that: halloween, Memorial day, Labour Day, beach days, summer vacations, missions trips, youth groups, church, weekends...
We have lived about 10 minutes away from each other most of our lives and saw each other extremely often to where sometimes the way we acted around each other made strangers wonder if we were siblings...which I mean, yeah, basically at that time.
Now, I know my husband is not organized, to say the least. And he's a bit of a procrastinator due to being somewhat forgetful. And he's very laid back and go with the flow...I know this, and I've experienced it many times over the years, even going back to the "pre-dateing" era. But I am now sitting in this house, shaking my head, as I pack and vacuum, and pack, and sit, and pack some more, labeling what I can as I go. But when asked about when or how he will pack his clothes, or if perhaps he could help me just clean up a corner, I get the most casual of responses:
"Oh don't worry, we don't really need boxes, we'll just stuff everything in my car!"
Sigh, oh honey. But as trips back and forth from apt A to car to apt B continue, I think an appreciation for boxes and labels has appears. Maybe someday.
The house is being emptied room-by-room...eventually we'll be out of here officially.
So at the moment I am currently taking a much needed coffee break, realizing that there is no food(having prepared it that way so we wouldn't have a bunch of leftovers to haul over), and the half and half is a little off, and all my clean clothes are in bags and my house is half in boxes and half all over the place.
We stopped at the realty office this morning and grabbed a key for the next apartment and decided to check it out on the way home. It was dark, quiet, empty, and small. The complex we live in is made up of duplexes. The apartment that I am currently packing up, makes up the right side of the house(if you're standing outside looking at the front), the new one is a left sided one. This means that the whole layout is flipped, with a few minor changes accounting for losing a bedroom. I didn't think that I was very attached to our place, but when that door opened I almost felt like crying.
It was dark, it was empty, we have no furniture, it smelled like weed and cleaning solution, and the next street over practically ran through the back yard.
It's exciting to see boxes slowly cover the counter surface and floor corners, but even after unpacking it will be empty. Kind of like living in a shell... We have probably another week until my husband's belongings from his previous station across the country actually arrive, bringing with it a TV stand, some miscellaneous items, and most importantly, A MATTRESS! And at this point only God knows how long it will be before a move is scheduled to bring all of my belongs on that 14hr drive down the coast from New England.
I have to chuckle to myself because of the constant warnings that I got before we got married. Mostly variations of:
"you never really know someone until you've lived with them"
And so far...that hasn't proven to be true. But my husband and I are a special case. We have known each other since we were 7 years old. Our families have been very close since shortly after we all met. For the past maybe 7years, maybe more 'cause I've lost count after all this time, we have done everything together. Christmas, birthdays, Easter, Thanksgiving. And for longer than that: halloween, Memorial day, Labour Day, beach days, summer vacations, missions trips, youth groups, church, weekends...
We have lived about 10 minutes away from each other most of our lives and saw each other extremely often to where sometimes the way we acted around each other made strangers wonder if we were siblings...which I mean, yeah, basically at that time.
Now, I know my husband is not organized, to say the least. And he's a bit of a procrastinator due to being somewhat forgetful. And he's very laid back and go with the flow...I know this, and I've experienced it many times over the years, even going back to the "pre-dateing" era. But I am now sitting in this house, shaking my head, as I pack and vacuum, and pack, and sit, and pack some more, labeling what I can as I go. But when asked about when or how he will pack his clothes, or if perhaps he could help me just clean up a corner, I get the most casual of responses:
"Oh don't worry, we don't really need boxes, we'll just stuff everything in my car!"
Sigh, oh honey. But as trips back and forth from apt A to car to apt B continue, I think an appreciation for boxes and labels has appears. Maybe someday.
The house is being emptied room-by-room...eventually we'll be out of here officially.
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| The site of the old CG station. This was my view from the back porch, and I'll miss it very much. |
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