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My house came with a garage sitting backwards on the corner of the lot. Like a good American, I moved in and promptly filled the garage with a bunch of stuff I use occasionally--coolers, shovels, wheelbarrows, bicycles, fasteners, odd pieces of wood, tools, snow tires, etc., and parked my car in the driveway. Well I am here to tell you that when you have to drive to work in the morning with the windshield wipers going so you can see out in September, a painful future of window-scraping awaits you (on days when you are too lazy to get out of bed early enough to ride the bus). So last night I used some of those tools and fasteners to hang miscellaneous garage-items on the walls, placed others in handily hung cabinets (thanks Pop!) and stacked a few more around the perimeter. Then I opened the big door and drove the car inside. In the fourteen years this car has been a part of my family, it has never had a garage space. But it does now! Spoiled in its old age.
And just in case you were missing any mention of the puppy, he was not a good garage-cleaning helper. This may come as a shock, but I assure you that it is true. Don't worry, later in the evening he got to play with his David and chew on his Leah and go on a big walk where he got stickers in his foot.
Yipes. It's been bizzy around these parts. I closed on the house April 11, and immediately started some home improvement projects supposedly under the tutelage of one dude I call Pop. Not completely unexpectedly, my skills were deemed fairly subpar and so most of my duties were limited to Holding Things, Picking Things Up, and Swiping My Debit Card. The backyard is now beautifully fenced and the garage now has a person door as well as the large door. If only I would get around to putting away my bike and gardening gear, my car could park inside for the first time in its 14 years with our family. These huge projects as well as a seemingly infinite number of helpful tips and assistance all over the house and property are something for which I can never thank him enough. My Pop rocks!
At this point the house is really starting to feel like my home. Almost everything is unpacked and put away and I am starting to develop patterns. It feels good. The only thing that could make it any better would be the arrival of the furry four-legged pal I've wanted to adopt for years. My parents, only semi-jokingly, refer to the house as my very expensive kennel. And guess what? On July 25th a wee little pooch will be arriving on my doorstep.* He is a golden retriever puppy tentatively named Sam Elliott, Scoresby, or Hamilton. However, all suggestions will be considered! If you've got one, please leave it in the comments. Puppy parenting is more than I had originally planned, and I have to say I am not looking forward to housetraining. But I realized that any new member of the family was going to be a pain for quite a long time no matter his or her age, and it is much easier to forgive somebody as cute as a puppy.
For the foreseeable future my life will continue to be ever-so-slightly over full and my ability to socially engage in non-dog-friendly activities will be limited. I'm already going to be neglecting the poor pooch to go to work every day. I want to be able to spend my evenings with him to make sure his life is made as happy as I hope he will make mine. At least I won't be taking classes this fall, though I do have to make sure to get all of my application materials together so I can start the program in earnest in the Spring. GMAT study guide, I hope I didn't lose you in the move.
*Yes, I do realize this is the day before the AA Party scheduled to be at my house this year--be there or be square. This year's theme "pAAin don't hurt". Isn't over-stimulating puppies supposed to be good for them so they don't grow up overly timid? I'm hoping he'll be tired and can take a nap in my bedroom with the door closed during the party. Poor planning on my part, but that's just the way it worked out.
Now that the house is found and due to be mine in two(ish) weeks, I am spending too much time thinking about what I'd like to put in it. My darling Mammacita has cautioned me not to plan where to place furniture until the papers are signed to try to avoid heartbreak. This is good advice, so I'm not thinking about where to place furniture I already own. No, I am dreaming of furniture I don't have and definitely cannot afford now that I'm taking on a mortgage. My personal style probably leaves most people scratching their heads. I love mixing what I call Grandma Chic with Midcentury Modern. For example, picture this table set with hand-quilted log-cabin placemats in pastel 30's reproduction fabrics (thanks Mom)! Adorable.
I can picture the living room with refinished floors, any number of updated sconce fixtures, and a trip to Utah (damn you for not selling my couch online). Also needed: bookshelves and recovered shell chairs. And floor lamps. And the coffee table currently in Turbo's storage unit (hah). The front porch is begging for an Adirondack chair with nice wide arms for a coffee cup while I keep a keen eye on the neighborhood. And the bedrooms? Well. The bedrooms need a lot of work. One needs new flooring before much of anything can happen, and the other is begging for refaced cabinets. But before those sorts of projects commence, I will be building a fence so a fuzzy four legged friend can come to stay with me. Yay puppy!
One of the things I love the best about this house is the windows. Every room has natural light from at least two directions. However, this doesn't leave much room for art. I have some photographs I love, and a quilt my mother assembled that is truly a showcase. Plus, I have an idea for creating my own version of Ellsworth Kelly's Spectrum Colors. The thing here, of course, is that the house is mine and I've got as much time as I want to truly create the space I want to live in. Hooray!
