Category: moving

Seven Things – no, Eight – I Love about Our New House

August 6, 2016

 

We’ve been here two months next week. Here’s what I love about the new house.

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  1. Its location. I’ve written about this before, so I’ll keep this short. I can walk or bike to the university’s arboretum, which alone gives me a 6 km walk if I do the perimeter paths alone, and a lot more if I wander the interior trails…and it’s an easy connect to the city’s multi-use trail system, which takes me downtown, or up to the big north-end park, or further out to the lake. Or along the river system, east, west, or north. I can also walk or bike easily to grocery stores, two butchers, a seasonal local-produce stand, and all the shops and services I could want.
  2. The recreation centre that’s about 250 metres away. Which includes a 25 metre pool, where I’m learning to swim again; a fitness centre, an excellent library, billiard rooms, bocci and tennis courts, concert and theatre venues, and lots of other activities to participate in, should I choose to.
  3. Air conditioning! It’s a hot and humid summer. The previous house didn’t have air conditioning; it kept cool with huge old shade trees and windows open at night, but it would have struggled this summer. We use it judiciously, but we appreciate having it here.
  4. The natural gas barbecue. No propane tanks to buy and change and take back. We’ve barbecued more here in the last month than I think we did in the last house in the past five years. (This is related to reason 6, too.)
  5. New construction. Our previous house was built in 1911. This one was built in 1998. Its windows fit, its doors fit. Floors are flat. It has good insulation. I dusted today for the first time in two months, whereas the old house – well, you dusted, and a few hours later you wondered why you’d bothered.
  6. No mosquitoes! OK, it’s a very dry summer. But it hasn’t stopped the mozzies at the other house, which is rural and in an area with a lot of maple swamps. Here, there’s the occasional one, but I can go outside to pick herbs and tomatoes without insect repellent, which wasn’t the case before.
  7. The city it’s in. I’m hugely biased: I lived here for sixteen years, between 1978 and 1994, before we moved a bit further south to make our commutes do-able. I always wanted to come back – but there was good reason for that. I’ve talked about the trail system, but to that I can add beautiful parks along the rivers, a good arts centre, one of the best bookstores in the world with welcoming writers’ community, some wonderful old architecture, the university’s library, music performances and theatre, the year-round farmer’s market, the best-behaved off-leash dogs I’ve met outside of Paris, and a strong local-food movement. All the things that make a city livable, for me.
  8. The community-within-the-city. Friendly, welcoming neighbours who balance that friendliness with respect for personal space and choices about lifestyle and involvement in community activities.

The biggest thing we’ve had to get used to (again) is paying for water. We’ve been on our own well for the last twenty-two years, and while we were always careful during other drought summers, the water was, essentially, free, although of course there was pump maintenance and replacement, as well as water-tank replacement in those years, and the electricity to run the pump. (Sometime I’ll do the arithmetic on that and see which one was, in the long run, more expensive!) Here, not only do we pay for water use, but we are bound by water restrictions – the city uses groundwater, and in a dry summer like this one we are limited to which days and which hours we can water flowerbeds; lawns are out of the question. I have no problem with that at all – essentially it’s no different than what we did with our own well. I’m not complaining about either paying for water (we should) or the restrictions (necessary and responsible): it’s just the one thing that wasn’t on our radar for the last twenty-two years.

So, when people ask me do I miss the old house, the honest answer is no. It was time to move. I’m glad we did.

Biking

July 3, 2016

One of the many attractive features of moving back to town was the opportunity to bike everywhere: to the farmer’s market, to the grocery store, to the library. This city has a wonderful mixed-use trail network plus a lot of bike lanes, and, for the most part, drivers, used to hordes of university students on bikes, are watchful for and respectful of bikes.

It’s taken me a couple of weeks to get my biking muscles up to speed, but for the last week or so I’ve been biking frequently. (The good weather helps, too.) I have a set of panniers that fit over my rear wheel, in which I can stuff my straw hat, a book, my laptop, shopping bags, water bottle, or whatever else I need to take, depending on my destination. My bike is a 21-speed ‘hybrid’: not quite a mountain bike, but sturdier and wider-tired than a road bike, with front shocks, perfect for the gravel trails as well as the roads.

Saturday morning I biked to the farmers’ market downtown. I kept the panniers empty except for a shopping bag or two, and ventured off down what is a new route for me: the bike lane down the major thoroughfare that leads downtown. Before the bike lane, which is relatively new, this was far too dangerous, and I’m still not sure I’d want to do it at a busier time. But fairly early on a Saturday morning, I felt it was safe enough.

It’s downhill most of the way, and a fairly steep downhill. I kept my speed slow, and enjoyed not having to pedal while keeping a close eye on the traffic. But there were no issues, and I reached the market in about fifteen minutes. I locked the bike and my helmet up, took my bag, and did my regular shopping, potatoes and peppers, kamut wraps, asparagus and cherries, greens. Then I stowed them all neatly in the panniers, bought a glass of freshly-squeezed (extracted?) carrot/orange juice, and considered my ride home.

I wasn’t going to tackle riding up the hill, so going back the way I came was out of the question. Basically, my choices were ride either west or east along the river trail, and then head south. I chose to ride east, which brings me out to a short-but-steep hill (I walked my bike) and then takes me into the Arboretum, and a short ride through its trails to our residential development and home. The whole trip – about 12 km – took me less than an hour, including the time shopping.

Today I biked on quiet residential streets over to the butcher’s (with a small insulated bag and ice pack stowed in the panniers), and then on to Staples to get a document bound, a quick 10 km trip. Tomorrow it will be back downtown, to my Monday morning writer’s group, and then a  loop home along the river, westward this time, and up the trail, back to Staples to pick up the document I took in today, a ride of about 14 or 15 km. I’m still challenged by some of the city’s hills, but I’m also old enough not to be discouraged (or embarrassed) by having to get off and walk occasionally.

BD bought a new bike last week, replacing his road bike with one similar to mine: a couple of trips on the trail system convinced him this was necessary. Older bones need a softer ride! He’s out every day, riding downtown to the library, or around the trails to new birding spots. Our gasoline use, even with BD going to check on the other house every second day, has dropped by half, and likely to drop more as we both bike for errands rather than drive. I’m seriously wondering how long we’ll keep two cars, although we certainly won’t make that decision until we see how we manage in colder, wetter weather. There are times when driving is still preferable: I’ve got a couple of evening events coming up, and I don’t want to bike in the dark (or even in the dusk), but the reasons for having two cars are rapidly disappearing. And there is a good bus system here, if we needed a back-up.

I’m very glad that one of my theoretical reasons for moving has rapidly become a viable reality. It’s a strong reinforcer that this was the right move, and the right time to make it.

A Day to Spoil Myself

June 14, 2016

Yesterday was a day for relaxation. After six weeks of packing, culling, moving and cleaning, I was truly tired, physically and mentally. We’d officially moved in on Wednesday, spent Thursday and Friday cleaning the old house from attic to basement, readying it for sale. Saturday I ran errands – the market and groceries, and unpacked some boxes; in between we watched the cats adjusting to their new house and thought about where pictures should hang.

Sunday morning I went for a long walk, eight kilometres from the house, around and through the Arboretum, and then made a strawberry-rhubarb pie when I got home. I think I misjudged how tired I was from the house cleaning, because by the time a friend and I had done a garden tour in the afternoon, and I’d cooked supper for us all, I was frankly exhausted. Luckily there was nothing scheduled for Monday except the natural gas barbecue installation, and overseeing that was BD’s responsibility. I could spoil myself.

So off I went, first for a haircut, which includes a head massage (lovely) and then for a pedicure – which includes a leg massage, as well as the back massage from the chair. By the time those were done, I was feeling much more relaxed. Along with the pampering had come some good conversation with another customer at the pedicure salon, a man a bit older than I getting his feet seen to. He was erudite and thoughtful, and it was just one of those wide ranging conversations – from life in the depression to music – that happen with strangers, a nice bonus on my ‘day off’.

After lunch I just puttered around, reading a bit, until four thirty, when our new neighbour across the street had invited us for tea and nibbles. Or rather, her idea of such, which was definitely a full meal, with delicious spreads (one, made with avocado, hard-boiled egg, mayo and lemon juice was outstanding, something BD can eat, and will definitely be added to our menus!), lots of fresh veggies and fruit, crackers and wraps, scones and loaf and cookies…and after more than two hours of another good conversation she sent us home with doggie bags. So I didn’t have to cook dinner, rounding out my day of relaxation perfectly. I ended it with a glass of wine and Game of Thrones. I slept like the proverbial log, and woke up completely refreshed and re-energized this morning.

It’s easy to forget to take care of ourselves when life is busy. I was certainly guilty of it when I was working, and I notice that in all the planning, organizing, and managing the move needed, I was falling back into work habits, not good for my health, mental or physical. But the move is done, all the important boxes are unpacked (and the rest can be done at leisure), the cats are no longer hiding, and we’re settling in to our new life…one designed to be relaxed, simple, and low-stress , after all!

Image credit: By Mozilla, CC BY 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=44547865

 

The Moving Diaries: The Last Week

June 3, 2016

We’re now at the point where we’re basically camping at two houses. The new house has a basement full of boxes, most of the dishes, pots and pans, and non-perishable food; the old house has most of the furniture, the perishable food, and very little else. We drive between them half-a-dozen times a day, always with more boxes. Sometimes we eat there, sometimes here.

We’re both tired. It’s been six weeks of renovations, cleaning, packing, moving things, unpacking, and there’s another week to go. The movers come Wednesday, so by the end of that day the new house will be mostly set up. Then two days of cleaning and touch-ups on the old house, and it goes on the market on Saturday. We have to keep an eye on it, for insurance purposes, and keep the grass cut and the gardens weeded, until we hand over the keys to the new owners. Which, we hope, will happen sooner rather than later, of course!

Surprisingly, we’ve managed to stay good-tempered throughout this whole process, even in putting together the new gas barbecue (and, to a lesser extent, the new bedframe, which came with some of the worst instructions I’ve ever seen). In part this is because we’ve each taken responsibility for areas the other either can’t do, or dislikes doing: some of the physical work needed here was simply beyond my strength, so BD has done that, as well as a fair bit of packing, moving, and either taking things apart or putting them together; I’ve basically been project manager for all the renovations at the new house, arranged the movers, dumpster, window cleaners and wildlife removal needed here, done the hazardous waste drop-offs, kept the grass cut and the books balanced, done a lot of packing, been BD’s gofer and assistant as needed, kept the master lists of what needs doing and what’s been done – oh, and done the grocery shopping and cooking so we don’t starve.

The unpacking – much of it – can happen more leisurely. I’m thinking one or two boxes a day, no more. BD has the perfect excuse – Euro 2016 – the European Football Championships (soccer, to the uninitiated) start June 10th, and he’ll be glued to the tv. He has a brand new HD digital recorder at the new house…which means never missing a game. And since my study at the new house is a completely separate room, with a door, (unlike here, where I took over the dining room, which has two doorways onto the living room…which is where the tv is) he can watch all the games he wants and it won’t disturb me. And maybe I’ll get some writing done.

The Moving Diaries: Gardening

May 22, 2016

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Our new deck now has a line of pots, planted this morning to herbs and tomatoes. The front porch has six blue ceramic pots of flowers and foliage plants. For the first time in twenty-two years, it was a pleasure to plant these. I worked in the garage, the door open to the sun and breeze, and there wasn’t a mosquito or blackfly in sight.

Unlike here in the old house, where after about April 30 doing anything outside means repellent and long sleeves. Backing onto swamp, surrounded by trees, the bugs are just a part of the nature around us, benefiting the birds and bats, frogs and fish – but not me. I can tolerate mosquitoes, but I react very badly to blackfly, bites swelling to the size of a quarter very quickly. Getting the containers planted every spring was an endurance test…and every year I planted fewer. This year, I’ve pruned the shrubs, and the only other thing we’re doing is keeping the grass cut and edged, until it sells.

I find myself looking forward to gardening again, getting my hands in the soil, planning plantings, in a way I haven’t for some time. The new garden is smaller, and already well planted to perennials, which helps – I’m not having to decide between birding or gardening in May – there is time for both. And for sitting on the deck with a drink and a book, just relaxing. A robin is nesting in one of our trees, and the shrubs had foraging cardinals and chipping sparrows this morning. I’ve put a hummingbird feeder up, along with a couple of hanging baskets of red Calibrachoa to attract them: no luck yet (that I’ve seen), but I live hopefully.  Eighteen days until moving day!

 

The Moving Diaries: Contractors, contractors, and more contractors.

May 7, 2016

On Thursday afternoon, I was on the phone to one contractor and BD was on the phone to another, while the new fridge was being delivered. It’s been that sort of week, known to everyone who’s ever moved, I suppose.

We’ve met with the painter, the gas-fireplace installer, the landscaper, the general contractor, and had a plumber in to investigate a leak. Of all of them, we have the quote from the painter, and have given him the go-ahead. We’re still waiting to hear from the cupboard-painter (apparently this is a specialized skill, different from painting walls and trim), and are waiting for a quote for replacing the shower in the master bedroom en-suite. We’ve chosen the style for the fireplace. The two shrubs which block the human door to the garage and one of the ventilation vents are scheduled to be removed.

At the other end, BD and the home inspector went through the current house on Friday, looking for the make-or-break flaws. Surprisingly, there were not too many: most of which BD has already repaired. It’s a quirky century house, and it’s not going to attract anyone who is looking for a new build, but there will be a buyer out there somewhere. I think up real estate ads in my head: ‘Century home, many original features. Four hundred square foot third floor with potential for private master bedroom or nanny suite. Backs on to conservation land: watch deer and foxes from the sun-room, while wild turkeys, grouse, and more come to the feeders.’ All true. Is it enough to make someone overlook the fact the original features include most of the windows, and the basement that, even with a sump pump, is on the wetter side of damp during spring thaw? Well, we did, twenty-two years ago. Someone will.

Meanwhile I cull and pack, a few boxes at a time. Today I did the bathroom, resulting in two boxes of supplies that can be moved immediately into the new house’s bathrooms, and the open shelves that support my desk. That produced two more boxes that will go to the new house’s basement for storage for now, a large bag of garbage, and eight empty wicker baskets. Yesterday I cut the grass here (a task I will NOT miss) (well, actually I finished cutting it – I started it Wednesday, and for the first time in all the years I’ve been using an electric mower, I ran over the cord. With a new plug and a slightly shorter cord, I finished it yesterday) and loaded all the garden art into my car. Today I found new places for the various pieces, at least for now: I need to see how the new garden changes over the seasons before I know if I’ve placed them correctly.

I’ve met two of our new neighbours, nice people both; waved to a lot more as I drive and bike in and out. I have, as I planned, gone birding every morning but one, biking from the house to the Arboretum. Friday I biked to the grocery store and the butcher. The move progresses, not always smoothly, but we move forward. That, I think, is the best I can ask – or hope – for.

The Moving Diaries: Phase 2: Juggling Two Houses

May 1, 2016

We took possession of the new house on April 29th. It was mid-afternoon before the lawyer’s office called to say everything was done; we immediately drove over to take another look at the house, inside and out.

It’s an opportunity that doesn’t come very often in a life, wandering around the new living space, thinking about wall colours, furniture placement, what will go in the kitchen cupboards. In our thirty-eight years together, we’ve moved five times before: three apartments, two houses. This is the first time the move is to a house that needs only cosmetic upgrades, and the first time we have enough money to make the changes before we move in.

Yesterday and today I cleaned, the kitchen, pantry and bathroom cupboards: everything else was spotless, but these needed a better cleaning than they, for the most part, had had. BD put up shelves in the basement, and took down the curtain rods and runners: we prefer blinds. We bought a couple of new light fixtures, and new knobs for the kitchen cupboards, and collected paint samples.

And now we’re kind of in holding mode. Tomorrow we meet with the person who will measure the three bay windows for blinds, and the day after with the contractor who is doing the painting and minor repairs that are needed. Thursday we meet with another contractor, this one to choose the gas fireplace we’re having installed. We’re hoping the timelines will be such that we’ll be able to move in at the beginning of June.

But until this work is done, we can only move so much stuff over. The basement is getting things that are of low priority (like boxes of Christmas things, and winter boots, and the picnic basket) and the garage is the repository for the boxes that need unpacking fairly quickly. Now the cleaning is done, we actually need to spend more time here, sorting and packing, and then making runs to town to drop off things at the charity shop or the new house. But the temptation to go to the new house is so strong!

I’m also making endless lists. Things to ask the contractors. Things to bring over – tape, magnets for the fridge, teabags. Things to consider – can we replace the track lighting near the kitchen island with a different type of fixture? We won’t know until later in the year, when it’s dark at meal preparation time. Will the north-facing deck get enough sun to need a sunshade? Again, it’s too early to know: the two trees shading it haven’t leafed out yet.

And at the other end, we’re waiting to hear if the person who wants to buy this house can get the financing. I make other lists for this house: what needs fixing, where I need to send change-of-address notices. Reminders to get the well tested, the septic tank pumped, the insurance changed.

It’s a lot of work. But yesterday, taking a break from the cleaning, I walked out the door, got on my bicycle, and biked the short distance over to the Arboretum. I locked my bike to the rack provided, and walked for an hour, listening to the birds, taking pictures of spring wildflowers, watching a raccoon (this one where it should be, and not in our chimney!) hunting through the mud at the edge of pond for food. The Canada geese nesting on a hummock in the swamp have goslings now: I stood on the boardwalk and watched them exploring their brand new world. And then I unlocked my bike, and five minutes later I was back home. It’s definitely worth the work.

The Moving Diaries: Clearing the Attic

April 24, 2016

This was the weekend of the attic. Fairly typical of American Foursquare houses, our attic is large, a big square space with two dormers front and back. With a total floor space of about 400 square feet, and a ten-foot ceiling, it’s a space with promise. We always thought we might turn it into a studio for me…but it never happened. So it became a place to store things, as attics do.

Friday I spent a couple of hours sorting: garbage, thrift store, keep. Three piles. Then I lugged boxes and bins and bags up the steep stairs and consigned the piles to containers. And that was enough, for one day.

Saturday, I brought the containers holding the ‘keep’ items down one floor to the spare bedroom, which is becoming the box repository. Then I left BD watching soccer and went to a friend’s open barn day,

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Adorable Angora Kid

where she shows off her spring crop of angora goat babies, and gives tours of her woolen mill and shop. Angora kids are adorable, and the colours she dyes the wool are enough to make me want to start knitting again. After we move.

 

 

 

 

Sunday – today – I started the day with a good two hour walk, birding the woodlands and open spaces of the university arboretum. Spring migration is just starting, resident birds are defending territory and building nests, and the air was loud with song and the drumming of woodpeckers. I needed scarf and gloves for most of the walk, but by ten it was warm enough to shed both – but it was also time to head for home and finish the attic.

I surveyed the spare room, and realized my first step was to move the ‘keep’ items – or most of them – from the blue plastic bins to boxes. The plastic bins are meant for taking items to the new house that we’ll unpack immediately, the bins returning to the car for another trip. So I packed boxes, carefully labelling them: “Board game, desk lamp, miscellaneous” one box says. “Various winter things,” another says. Sometimes what goes into a box is determined by the size of the items and the box, not the relatedness of the items. But since this was all in the attic, none of it is needed immediately we move, and these boxes will be relegated to the basement shelves.

Then I took the boxes back up to the attic, and packed up the items for the thrift store, carrying them all to the attic stairs landing. Now, the stairs are narrow, steep, and have a bend part way down, and I’m not what you might call agile. BD was out birding. So I carefully stepped backward down the stairs, bumping a box from one step to the next, until I was on the bedroom floor landing and could stand up with the box in my arms. Eight times. Then down the next flight of stairs, and out to the car, where I put the boxes in the back seat.

That left about eight largish pictures in frames, and two large mirrors that were in the attic when we moved in twenty-two years ago. Plus two portable baseboard heaters. These were beyond me. When BD came home, he, much more agile, carried them down the stairs and stowed them in the trunk of my car. The thrift store has a nice young man of about twenty who will take them (and the boxes) out of my car tomorrow.

What is left up there? Six garbage bags, which we’ll bring down in stages for curbside pickup – we’re limited to three bags every second week. A desk and a bookshelf which will wait for the professional movers. The painting equipment that is still in use. I think that’s it. BD will finish painting the space in the next week or two….and then the people that view the house, and the eventual buyer(s), can dream about what they will do with it: a studio? A nanny flat? A playroom? The wide pine boards under the carpet could be sanded and finished. A skylight or two could be installed, along with a spiral staircase to replace the awkward existing stairs. All things I thought about. But I went to Antarctica and Tibet and the Himalayas, to the Amazon and the Serengeti and the jungles of Borneo instead, leaving the promise of the attic space to someone else, in the end.

The Moving Diaries: April 20th

April 21, 2016

I started on the bedroom this week, sorting out the two drawers full of toiletries, travel miscellany, jewellery, make-up, and OTC remedies. This generated a lot of garbage – more than I would have liked, but there is nothing else to do with dried-up eye makeup or solidified hand cream. The expired OTC drugs are going back to the pharmacy, and the thrift store will be getting a few things.

Tomorrow I’ll start packing clothes into boxes. We’re in the in-between season here – it was 25 C the other day (77 F), but it’s supposed to snow on Monday, so it’s not as simple as packing away all my winter clothes, but instead trying to second-guess what I’ll need, and gamble on the long-range weather forecast approaching reality. If I’m sensible, I’ll label the boxes precisely, for the day it’s ten degrees hotter than it was supposed to be and I need my shorts.

Once a week or so I go over to the new house to take pictures of the gardens, so I know what early spring bulbs are planted where. The house is empty, so no-one minds this. I almost missed the early species iris – it was so hot the week they bloomed they only flowered for a couple of days. The daffodils are just starting, and the lawn is full of violets. I think about the new plantings – scilla, snowdrops, species Narcissus – I’ll put in come the autumn.

In-between, I make the necessary arrangements with the utility companies, the lawyer, arrange for a real estate agent to come to value this house….reassuringly, his estimate and the financial institution’s assessment are nearly identical. I’ve also booked appointments with the renovator and the HVAC company that will install our new gas fireplace.

You will note that it’s “I” that does all this. BD’s Aperger’s-related anxiety is showing itself in subtle ways, mostly by retreat to things he can control – his detailed TV recording/watching schedule, his even-more-detailed bird records, his daily walks and cycling. He’ll be fine in the new house: he’s spent hours and hours looking at the 360-degree visuals of each room on the internet; he’s done schematics for furniture layout, he’s planned his new cycling routes and walks with the help of Google Maps. But the actual work of arranging the move has too many details, too many people to talk to, too many periods of uncertainty for him. If he could do things one at a time, he’d probably be ok….but that isn’t how it works. So it falls to me.

We’re off this afternoon to Home Depot to look at window treatments, having decided that the north-facing bay window in the living room and the sliders in the family room will need something in the winter months – originally we were going to leave them without blinds, but have reconsidered. After lunch: my number one rule for this sort of shopping is never on an empty stomach!

The Moving Diaries, April 15th

April 15, 2016

I packed the first boxes this week. I started with the spare room, which holds my out-of-season clothes, a cupboard full of wrapping paper, gift bags, and related items, a couple of bookshelves, and not much else other than the futon-sofa-bed, the ironing board, and the wireless router. I thought this would be a fairly simple room to begin on.

I wasn’t far wrong. I ended up with one stuffed garbage bag, three boxes for donation, three for moving, two for paper recycling. The hardest part was sorting the books. I don’t buy a lot of books, and so what I have are ones I will tend to re-read. So, not surprisingly, I ended up keeping most of them, sending a dozen or so to the thrift store and another dozen or so (collapsing, yellowed paperbacks) to recycling.

What surprised me is how it made me feel. Two winters ago, not working due to health issues but with a fair bit of energy much of the time, I cleaned and culled almost every room in the house. That was actually fun: I was focused on de-cluttering my life, and it gave me something to think about that wasn’t my health. This process now isn’t depressing, but it does make me a little bit sad. As much as I like our new house and just about everything about it – the layout, the neighbourhood, the city it’s in – I’m still a little bit sad to be leaving this house and this village after twenty-two years. I suppose that’s normal.

We’re leaving because it’s time to, because the new house and its location is better for my health and BD’s, easier for me to walk and bike every day, less stress for both of us in driving back and forth to town for everything we need. It’s also only twenty years old, not a hundred and twenty, and won’t need the constant and sometimes exhausting maintenance this one does. But while the neighbourhood is nestled between the university’s arboretum and its nature reserve, and attached to the city’s multi-use trails – all good things, and the defining reason for buying there – we won’t be looking out on twenty acres of woodland, as we do now. (On the other hand, we’ll actually be able to sit on our new deck and not be eaten by mosquitoes between April and October.) We won’t have foxes running through the garden, and red squirrels beating up the larger black ones, and the wild turkeys coming to the feeders…but I also won’t be paying a small fortune to have a nest of raccoons removed from my fireplace chimney, as I am on this coming Monday. Compromises.

The three boxes have gone to the thrift store, the boxes to be moved are taped and labelled. Garbage and recycling waits till next Thursday. The spare room is basically done. Tomorrow I’ll start on the bathroom – just the cupboards there, really, to be done.

And while part of me is sad, part of me is excited. I mull over paint colours and window treatments as I drive. I think about light fixtures. But mostly I think about what my daily routine will look like, about being able to walk or bike into nature from my front door, but also bike to the grocery store and the public library. To attend plays or hear speakers or listen to concerts at the university and walk home in fifteen minutes. To access the university library seven days a week, instead of only weekends when the parking is free. All of that makes me smile. Sad and happy, an end and a beginning, goodbye and hello.