I'm hanging out on the sofa at my tenant's apartment waiting for the delivery guys to show up with a new dishwasher. The "window" is between 8am and 12 pm, so I've been here since 8:00, but don't expect them until 11:58.
This is the apartment we could be living in if we kicked our tenants out, which we are trying not to do. They really like it here and hope to stay, whereas I have very subdued feelings about the place, and I don't think Paul has ever shown much enthusiasm for it. I absolutely adored it when I first bought and had it all to myself and for that reason I sill love it. I still feel peaceful and protected when i am here alone-- but I don't have a strong vision of me and Paul living here together. Maybe it feels like moving back into the apartment is like trying to move back to a certain time in my life, which seems like an ill-fated idea.
On the other hand--the rental market here is very, very tough right now. We looked for a week straight and found three possibilities--all slightly above our desired price range, then Paul had to go back to Tallahassee for his film, which brought all progress to a halt. He returns tonight, so I'm sure we will resume this weekend.
I've been very lucky that both my siblings have left town consecutively, giving me almost three weeks of not just shelter--but of well-appointed abiding--with comfortable beds and space to spread out the contents of my rolling duffel. But I will be glad to find a place where we can unpack our boxes. After all my file cleaning, the forwarded mail is piling up at various addresses as the files sit in boxes. I'd like to darken my eyebrows, but the supplies for this are in a box. the other day I gave in and bought nail polish remover, since mine is also in a box. Constantly we need to print items, but the printer is in a box and we don't know which one.
Everytime we move I am struck by needing certain things, and also by how we have so many things that I never think to need at all.