We did it. We moved to St. Paul.
During the hottest week of the year. Where we have no air conditioning.
Sunday, Vern and I came to put the place together. (There were beds that needed to be assembled, stuff that needed to be put away, etc.). First thing, Vern went out to buy some furniture pads, and I stayed back to put things together. I stood amidst the mess, not knowing where to start.
So, the first thing I decided to do was to switch the hinges on the refrigerator so that the door opened toward the kitchen (instead of away from it). I wasn't very good at doing such a thing, so when Vern got back, he ended up fixing the mess I had made out of it. "This was a poor choice to start with," I said. "Sorry."
I thought I would have felt some sort of... something (release? exhale? I don't know what to call it), in having all of our stuff out of storage and back with us again. I even bought back our table (which I loved), that I had sold to a friend, and I got back my grandma's bedroom set from my uncle. I thought I would have felt some sort of... something, in having a place to ourselves again.
But, instead, I feel nothing. I feel the same. I feel exhausted and hot and like there is a lot more to do to get this place together, so maybe that has contributed to the fact that I haven't had my exhale yet, I don't know.
I really do like our place though. It is beautiful. Nice hardwood floors and woodwork.
Here are some pictures:
Here's the refrigerator. Check out how those doors swing open toward the kitchen. That was my idea. I'm a genius.
(Note: I have a bunch of empty shelves and I don't really know what to put on them.)
Oh, and my friend, our landlord, who is a soapmaker (slash midwive slash herbalist), left out this beautiful soap for us.
And her daughter made us these cupcakes: