Moved

This week has been crazy!

We've switched apartments within the same house, and boy are my arms tired. However, the increased space in every room is immensely relieving. There are windows everywhere, the sun's coming in, I've got the front door open and a baby gate in it, and the air is fresh and clean.



We acquired some extra furniture, too--two couches and an armoir. I can't believe we have three couches, and in a living room big enough to comfortably hold them. I'm so excited to have people over, and have space for them to sit down together in the living room without having to share one couch.

Those couches were filthy, though, so I washed all the cushion covers and pillows. The previous owner was a dog-haver. She used to live down here with her brother, and moved out about a year ago. Since then they've sat in our basement, unloved, collecting the a musty smell. It was gross.

This whole place was gross when we first moved in. Let me start from beginning, cause if you want a piece of my heart, you better start from the start.

Last Thursday ...

   ... was moving day. It was 65% hectic, all things considered. The movers, two young dudes from Seattle Movers, were good at their work, took three hours, and didn't dilly-dally.

Their pipes put mine to SHAME. Muscles. Where are my muscles? Oh, you mean these little things inside my skinny arms? Right. I always thought there were rubber chickens in there.

A white dude and a black dude they were. Nice guys, in their 20s. They thought my kids were cute, but they didn't try to talk to them or engage or anything. They were here to work, but they also weren't above a little light conversation and a few jokes.

Now my kids are 3yrs, and 15mo. They were walking all over the place. I couldn't really corral them every single second the dudes were in here moving stuff. I had to both watch them and supervise and direct the dudes. And sometimes BB or Lucy would be right in their way--just walking right in front of them while they were carrying heavy shit. My point is that the movers were good about watching out for my kids. They didn't trample them and they were respectful.

All in all, I have respect for Seattle Movers now. There is one thing that bothered me, but it's not their fault. My kitchen table had to be disassembled to fit out the door, but putting it back together proved to be a real challenge. It's an Ikea table, so it has these odd parts that fit inside the legs that you can't reach, and that twist and don't allow the screws to fit in the holes and you have to stick a screwdriver in there while you're laying on your back on the floor underneath the thing...

I found all this out when Megan and I put it back together yesterday. So it's not totally their fault. Man that thing was a pain.

Moving day was a day of being nervous, my kids and myself. Our home was being uprooted and shifted, and during those times it's easy to lose stuff, get it fucked up. You're guaranteed, movers or not, a lot of physical labor. You've gotta keep many things in mind at once. Add in a couple kids to corral, cause the wife had to work, and the stress increases.

But also, you know what? The stress decreased because I didn't have to move anything. Using movers was smart, especially since the landlord split the cost with us. We both paid around $150. And if I didn't have kids, I probably wouldn't have hired movers.

So my kids decreased my stress a little, cause they got me to hire movers, and saved me the effort of hauling many heavy objects up and down stairs, which gave me more energy to clean, arrange, etc.

Listen to me, trying to argue that adding kids into my life decreases stress in any way, shape or form. How funny I am.

But I'll tell ya man, sitting here watching Go Diego Go! with my kids, typing on the computer, drinking coffee--my stress is at an all-time low.



And in my previous apartment, the stress would have been high in this situation. The difference more space can make is immense. You cram people together and we start getting stir-crazy.

The extra $500/mo is gonna hurt, though. Shit. There is, as they say, the rub.

And let me tell you, the rent increase has made the cleaning Megan and I have had to endure that much more insulting.

It wouldn't have been so bad if the previous tenant wasn't a total slob--I mean, he didn't clean anything. He didn't even have all of his possessions packed up by the time the movers were most of the way done moving things. He was scrambling to be done on time, totally disorganized. And he left us the fucking filthiest kitchen and bathroom I've ever had the displeasure of cleaning.

So anyway, after the movers moved all our shit last Thurs, Megan came home from work. It was roughly 2pm, but it seemed like night time should have befallen us. My day had already been full to the brim. Spilling over, even. We had two days of her not working to look forward to.

Did we ever use those days well--there was so much to do it was impossible to sit down unless it was done. One job turned into five without question. To unpack one box meant cleaning what I wanted to put the stuff in. Cleaning the house meant moving other things around.

Megan has been a champ--she cleaned up that kitchen and no mistake. There was so much grossness in there. Ew. Right now it's comfortable, but to get it this way, we had to clean the countertops, stove, the interiors and exteriors of the oven, fridge, cupboards and drawers, and sweep and mop the floor.

Yesterday I used about 20 sheets of paper towel cleaning ONE SET OF BLINDS. After that, Megan and I fixed that stupid kitchen table, which was frustrating and took a long time. I kinda yelled at Megan and turned into a total dick at one point in there, but she was patient with me, and we did it.

It's sturdy again, and we can all sit all the way around it, in our new dining room with three huge windows. Eating breakfast and dinner together around the table yesterday, me, the wife and the kids, was really ... it made me love everything.

My Fri-Sat weekend was spent unpacking boxes, making space, shifting, organizing, deciding, thinking, and sitting down in front of the tv about twice a day. I've gotta relax sometimes, even amid chaos and clutter.

Last night I played Fallout: New Vegas and watched two episodes of The Killing. The wife and kids were on the other side of the house, and I could have the tv volume up loud. I was sitting about 15 feet away from the couch, with my feet up, and my laptop on a table at my side. It was lovely.

This morning was my first morning alone in the new place with the kids. I've gotta get up and feed them eggs now. Thanks for reading, reader. You rule.