We picked the wrong day to have the carpets cleaned the week we moved in. It was followed by four days of dreary, on-and-off wet weather, which of course makes it hard to dry anything out even with partially opened windows and the attic fan going. And on top of that, one of the guys on our moving crew was in a hurry (big evening plans), so that he just wanted to dump all our stuff in the living room – we insisted they move furniture upstairs –, while trekking mud all over the clean carpet. Not to mention they didn't bother to wrap any of the furniture so there are scratches and truck smudges all over everything.
I detest the wallpaper shelf liners that some previous owner – I think we're the third – used to line the kitchen and bathroom cabinets. (Above, the delightful east-facing window and sill over my kitchen sink.) That stuff doesn't come off without serious ripping and hassle.
For lack of an assembled crib, we bedded the three girls together the first night we had furniture: Z in G's toddler bed, in case she rolled out, and G on Z's mattress on the floor next to it. Though I'm forced to keep them company (again) until at least Z's asleep (so she won't climb out of bed), the happy side effect of their rooming together is that no one's been to visit us in the night since. Of course the other possibility is that they're so exhausted with the excitement of the new abode, no one wakes in the middle of the night to creep over.
I need an extra light in the laundry closet.
You always hear about neighborhoods like this one: people actually looking out for each other and not just paying lip service; plates of brownies – two so far – for the new neighbors; and after returning from
dinner at the Longhorn, Drew exclaimed, "Someone mowed our lawn!"
