One Week

It has been a week today since I have been in my very own home. I still don't think it has entirely sunk in yet. I have had many moments of realizing that I live here and I own this place and it is mine to do what I want in and every time it feels like a new realization. I still feel like at any moment now someone is going to wake me from a very good dream. But that isn't going to happen. This isn't a dream.

I am loving living on my own. I am loving that this whole space is a reflection of my tastes, of my hard work. I am loving that I can come home at night and no one has touched my stuff, no one is in the kitchen or the bathroom or doing laundry when I want to be, everything is exactly how I left it when I went to work in the morning. I don't have to feel guilty about leaving something out or not cleaning up right away. I don't have to rush through my meal prep or my laundry so that someone else can use the space. I can do what I want when I want. Or not. It is awesome.

I knew that I was stressed about my living situation but I had no idea how stressed until suddenly that stress wasn't there.

It was a lot of work to get to this point. I got possession last Tuesday and there were more than a few moments when I wondered if I had made the biggest mistake of my life. My realtor and I had access just prior to possession to do a walk through and make sure nothing was majorly wrong, that all the appliances worked etc. The seller was supposed to have vacated the premises and surrendered all his keys to the building. Part way through the walk through he showed up, still having a set of keys. He had just happened to be in the neighbourhood and noticed that the lights were on so he figured he had better check it out - and he wasn't giving up his keys until his money was in his pocket (creepy!). Needless to say my first phone call was to a locksmith. I couldn't do anything about the main doors but I could certainly make sure he wouldn't have access to my suite. My realtor (and his) were both appalled and advised that in all their years of selling homes this had never happened.

Creepy Old Guy also felt it appropriate to share that he was moving to the Phillipines (might it have something to do with the on-line dating printouts of younger women he left lying around when we did our initial home inspection? My realtor and I have money on him having found some child mail order bride. Also creepy.) And then he tried to tell me that he had the living room carpets cleaned (not so much). He felt bad for two reasons - one, because he didn't think they had done a very good job (Because they didn't show up!) and two, because he didn't realize that he should also have had the bedroom carpet done - he had never opened the curtains so he didn't realize they were dirty, but that black spot right there? that was from his feet. (Creepiest) Needless to say, I was very glad that I had arranged with a co-worker to borrow her steamcleaner.

I knew that I would want to do my own cleaning before painting/moving in. In the back of my mind I think I realized that it wasn't like moving into an apartment where they are pretty much cleaned before you move in (although not so much in the place B and I lived together). But I had no thoughts that Creepy Old Guy would not have cleaned at all. In fact I am in serious doubt that he ever cleaned at all, maybe the odd wipe of the countertops but that was about it. It was disgusting. Think about a moment when you have found some bizarre and hard to clean corner of your own home and realized that you have missed cleaning it for a while. Now imagine that it is 600 sq ft of missed spots and it is not even your own dirt. I wanted to vomit and then call my mother. It wasn't the dirtiest place I have ever seen and it wasn't like he went out of his way to leave a major mess - there were no bottles or flies or anything of that nature. It just wasn't clean. And the floors were sticky. And there were splashes of coffee all over the kitchen. And the toilet had never been cleaned. And the fridge & microwave stank. (Vinegar is my new best friend) I bought rubber gloves and and arsenal of cleaning supplies and went to town for a good 7 hours. Plus the 2 hours it took to steam clean the rugs.

Then we spent 2 days painting. I had never painted before so I had no idea how that would go. And it is a little daunting to look at a very small paint sample and imagine how you think a whole room will look in that color and then hope that you are right. But I love my colors (Cappuccino in the living room/kitchen & Light Mocha in the bed/bathroom) so I guess it turned out all right in the end. The most awkward parts were painting around the sink and toilet in the bathroom. The sink because you kind of have to crouch on the countertops and paint in the dark because the lights are too hot (we rigged up an alternate lighting system) and the toilet because it is just awkward all together. Unless maybe you drained all the water and took off the tank? I managed to earn a well played from my cousin for getting out of back of the toilet duty on the second coat.

Finally it was moving day. In a snowstorm. And then a lot of shopping and hours spent putting things together. Thank god for Gerg - he more than made up for my dad's lack of handyman skills. I love my father, but task oriented and handymanesque he is not.

So here I am. Surrounded by all (well most) of my own things. Arranged how I like them. And I am almost ready to believe that I might just be happy.