Taking Down The To-Do List

Eventually Jen took down the to-do list that she composed and posted on the refrigerator sometime after we moved into Kawama:

Spraypainting the chandelier we talked about.

We also talked about the kitchen cabinets.

Painting the dressers in the bedroom involved using the same paint we used for the stenciling in the bedroom; that paint was a brand name that proved to be of terrible quality.

Painting the dining room sideboard and replacing the handles entailed spraypainting the dresser the owner left in the basement and changing the pulls:

Hanging the craft shelves involved me purchasing a special masonry drill bit to drill into the exterior wall; I think the shelves will stay where I put them; so far, so good.

"Stairs" we discussed.

Paint touchups were just that; not a big deal, though I was quietly relieved that the flat white we bought somehow matched the existing white on the ceiling.

The bathroom faucet, the toilet, showerhead (nothing much to say about that except I'm thankful it works) and caulking — pretty straightforward. Did I mention that the secret to caulking is to use painter's tape for smooth edges? I had no idea that's what you did and often wondered why so much caulking looked so shitty.

Unpacking the front bedroom/"office" was a little more complicated than we thought it was going to be.

Stenciling.

The yard.

. . . . .

At first I was hesitant to move out of our tiny apartment. But here are some things that have made it all worthwhile. First, having a dining room meant that we could have a proper dining room table:

If you ever had dinner at our old place, you might have experienced our version of "table leaves," which just meant that we took our shitty table, appended a television tray balanced on several reference works and put one or two chairs around the coffee table. It was ridiculous. We tried to overcompensate with the food. Anyway, I just about had tears in my eyes once we got this thing assembled. I only wish we could have had more people over since we moved in.

The washer-dryer. Enough said:

A backyard. Maybe the idea of having 100 square feet of outdoor space isn't that impressive to you; I get it — I'm sure it looks strange to a lot of folks — but going to 100 square feet from zero square feet is a force multiplier like you wouldn't believe:

And then there's growing shit in the backyard. Even if you're terrible at it:

There's knowing you have roof access, even if it's a pain to hoist yourself through the hatch and even though it's pretty knee-buckling at the edge:

There's understanding that changing an air valve on a radiator isn't that big a deal:

There's understanding that changing a thermostat isn't that big a deal:

There's having Con Ed tear up your sidewalk:

And waiting four months for them to fix it:

Actually, they did a pretty nice job in the end, and I gather that it was some kind of necessary work . . .

There's worrying about flooding:

There's having your first fresh Christmas tree instead of the quarter-sized fake thing that fits into a duffel bag the rest of the year:

It took a while but we finally had our housewarming party:

And that's the story of how we got into Kawama.

Posted: February 15th, 2012 | Author: Scott | Filed under: The Cult Of Domesticity | Tags: Kawama, When Inanimate Objects Move You To Tears

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