Meanwhile, back in Somerville, I'm sitting at the keyboard in the very early morning looking out over the flat grey roofs of Somerville's Ball Square shopping center. My new apartment is on the third floor of a shopfront building, tucked back in a far corner of the building. The bedroom and east study windows let in a flood of sunlight every morning. I have yet to put up blinds yet. The cracked and pitted window frames look just a little pathetic in their nakedness. Across the square, some men are vacuuming one of the rooftops with a cleaner the size of a semitrailer. It's noise is so loud as to drown out even the sounds of my fingers on the keys; the windows have to stay closed for this or I will go insane or deaf.
Inside the apartment, the light creeping across the room reveals the peeling wallpaper, remnant from the 40's or 50's, scarred by rips and nail holes, marked by crayons from the children of a previous tenant. I haven't the time this month to properly strip, respackel, and repaint, so the pictures and prints are going up to cover the worst of the sins.
The bookshelves have settled comfortably into the living room. Stuffed with books and strewn with kitsch and memorabilia, it appears as if they landed intact from my old apartment, were never packed and moved at all. Amazing that I was able to re-create almost the exact same state of chaos. (hlr) would no doubt be pleased to see that his books have finally been united in one place on one shelf, not scattered across the room from each other. He is sandwiched in between Dr. Seuss and Douglas Adams; an appropriate place, I believe.
The brand new blue carpets seem so out of place in this room where everything else bears the battle scars of multiple tenancy...
Sitting here, I realize that the floors are subtly slanted to the west. It's not something one notices when standing, but it's taking just the slightest muscle power to keep the chair from rolling toward the kitchen.
The kitchen, cleaner than it was yesterday, is still a disaster. Fridge and sink were cleaned yesterday, stove and oven are today's project. The oven cleaner has been eating away at the walls of the oven all night; by now it should be a brown gooey mess. I have to call the gas company today, as it appears that cooking gas is on a separate meter, not part of the heat and included in the rent like the realtor told me.
For all the quirks, problems, and holes, it is all mine. I am once again living alone, in my own space, and content to stay the way for now, opening the doors, real and virtual, to guests when I choose.
Welcome, Judy and everyone else, to the virtual housewarming.