A quick recap of my first few adventures over the past three months:
The time has come to close on my very first house and my mom and step dad are stuck in Oregon due to a very unfortunate series of events (everything worked out in the end) and I must close by myself. I am terrified and thrilled. All the papers are finally signed and I am dazed. I sit in the car for a long time hoping to remember this event. Happily I am not left to celebrate alone after all and am toasting my good fortune with my very thoughtful stepsister, her husband and their one year old son who have come to celebrate in my very own house with pizza and wine. I feel incredibly lucky.
My move is canceled due to a snow blizzard in CT. I reschedule a day before another snow storm is to hit PA. It is freezing. Who moves in January? Naive first-time home buyers, that's who. I am nervous day and night. I have strange packing dreams and am grinding my teeth in my sleep. Lovely.
This is a shot of the blizzard approaching my condo in CT, we had just had a huge snow storm 2 days before.
Hooray for my brave mother who waited for 4 hours in the freezing cold empty house for the movers to arrive while I drove from CT to PA. Hooray for the brave movers who never complained and did a wonderful job. My brand new 109 year old house is filled to the brim with boxes and furniture and I have never been so happy.
My mother, who is the world's best organizer (she rivals Martha, minus the publishing empire and jail time) helps me to unpack and set up house as I have sadly not inherited the tidy gene. It takes us just under a week to get everything done. She is amazing and I am exhausted. Photos to come of before and after.
Let the adventures begin.
The first week the guest toilet overflows. I happily march off to Home Depot for a plunger and snake. I can handle this.
Toilet fixed.
Toilet overflows.
Not a problem, I resnake and replunge albeit a bit less confidently.
Toilet overflows violently, master bath shower water backs up, kitchen sink backs up, first floor bathroom and laundry room flood, water seeps through to basement onto unpacked boxes.
Expensive snake breaks. Plumber is called. While waiting for plumber I cry. The first week here and my first floor and basement already flood. With toilet water no less. The plumber has to call the city as the clog is all the way down where my pipes meet the city pipes. Pipes are finally cleared, plumber is paid and I spend the next few days in rubber gloves and mask repeatedly scrubbing the floors, walls and toilet with Clorox. Clorox is now my favorite smell. Most likely because the caustic fumes have burned away the ability to smell anything else.
My beautiful refridgerator, oh how I love your stainless steel doors with ice and water dispensers and blue glowing temperature display. The type of fridge a grown-up person has. I reach out to fill my glass with ice from the door, gripping it tightly in anticipation of the loud clinking as ice drops in. Silence. Where is the grown-up door ice? Why is there no ice shooting into my glass? And why oh why does the temperature for the fridge read 58 degrees?
I will not cry.
Fridgidaire is called. Authorized repairman is called. They are backed up and can't come out for 4 days. I sadly get rid of all the new food now gone bad just purchased to fill up my sleek new fridge. I feel very much not like a grown-up.
The repairman fixes the fridge, the temperature reads 37 degrees. He tells me I must wait 5 hours for ice. I happily wait. What is a few hours when soon I can have all the ice I want without ever opening a door? I plan my first icy drink, what will showcase the ice best? Ginger ale? Too childish for the occasion. Gin and tonic? Too summery. I go pure and decide on ice water. 5 hours later I press my glass against the sleek lever, my chapped lips part slightly in anticipation. Nothing.
I am too parched to cry.
Authorized repairman is called again. The following day the ice is fixed. The water filter light on the door turns from green to yellow warning. I start filling my glass up from the faucet so that I don't have to see it...
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