My family has relocated from lovely, tranquil, quiet (okay I concede to sometimes too quiet) Williamsburg to quite busy, quite rigorous Northern Virginia. It’s a big change, which now appears to be the understatement of the century.
We arrived one week and two days ago. And it’s been a challenge. TO SAY THE LEAST.
Shit keeps breaking. Like seriously. Example: yesterday afternoon as I walked across the basement I felt a drop of water hit my head. What? I looked up to see the ceiling yellowed with water, the retro salon light (I don’t know they are these ugly long lights that look like they are from a pool hall) above me filled with water. Hmmm. Electricity + Water = Bad in my limited scientific experience. Currently we sit without water waiting for the plumber. Waiting and waiting. For like almost four hours now. Hey, take your time buddy.
But seriously, what the hell?! We just bought this house, and in the space of a week my husband is feeling some serious buyer's remorse.
Maybe I am too, I just don’t want to join the fray in saying it. Like if I do, this choice to move up here, might not have been the right one. Anyway I don’t like to say those things out loud, even if I am the only one who stays quiet about it. Also, that would ruin my longstanding role as peacemaker, soother, placater, roof holder upper.
So along with a rainy ceiling we have a list of challenges. Ah where to start?
- Locks that were installed in the maybe 1940s. Me: locksmith see these lovely antique locks, can we replace them with something that will not cause an anxiety attack when I try to open the door? Locksmith: Sorry lady, they stopped making those like fifty years ago. To be brutally honest you need to replace the entire door, or doors actually as there are like five of them. Me: hahahahah fuck you
- More water! Rainstorm this time. Fills the window wells. Then they cry and lots of water, I guess they are just the tears of this fucking house that find their way, conveniently, if I do say so, to the drain in the middle of the utility room. Huh, that’s funny. One of them is actually coming in right behind an outlet. See above equation.
- Bathrooms. Ok this one is a first world problem, I get that. But since I live in the first world, it’s relevant. The sinks are for PEOPLE WITHOUT PRODUCT. They are not for haircentric people, which I OBVIOUSLY AM. Or even regular people who need to have space for things like toothbrushes and toothpaste. I know, I know, I saw the sinks before we bought the house. I am certain they have shrunk since closing.
- No curtains. Maybe never any curtains. So yes, everyone sees everything. Since we have like 1000 windows it might take me reentering the workplace to cover the cost.
- Rapunzel. Our darling girl Ella, in the throes of puberty has ascended the third floor and very rarely is seen down here with us, well, more normal, less aggressive, less moody individuals. I have this odd vision of her as a caterpillar who is up there, in the trees, maybe in her chrysalis, waiting and planning and biding her time before her big reveal. I think this and then recall SHE IS ONLY TWELVE, WE ARE JUST GETTING STARTED. Then I cry a little bit, as she is driving me to drink.
- The outlet behind the bed. It looks, when I wedge my head between the headboard and the wall, to be dead center, just out of my reach from either side. I try to move the bed. Sorry it weighs 5000 lbs. Why oh why didn’t I plug in the surge protector while the movers were here? I had one! Damnit! So I am, for the foreseeable future destined to plug my phone in seventeen feet from my side of the bed. No more Candy Crush Soda Pop or Audible to lull me to sleep at night as I try to NOT THINK ABOUT THIS LIST.
- The couch. So beautiful, so comfortable. So doesn’t fit in this house. So doesn’t fit down the steps to the basement. Ninety six inches long and I am pretty sure it cost like 96 hundred thousand dollars. Since move in day it sits quietly in the sunroom, taking up the entire space. And now I resent it and what it represents. Which I guess is a foray into Craigslist, which is seriously inconvenient.
- Riding bikes. Today I took my first bike ride at 7:15. I rode to see the danger level that Ella would encounter should she ride her bike to her new middle school. She is, as is Holden, within one mile of school, and qualifies as a WALKER. You see, they haven’t met her, or they would DISQUALIFY her. That bike ride down this busy road? They have to be kidding. Shawn says fight the transportation office. At this point I will fight anybody. Holden’s school, though the bike ride is only 6 minutes and relatively easy hardly the level of busyness we can expect in September. :ugh: In his quest to be more grown up he leads the way as we ride to his school and back, and then again, and one more time. And then with Shawn. Also he cries when we say we are too busy to go again. Yes, cries, like real tears and everything. Lots of them.
I haven’t been to the gym yet, but I didn’t list that. And I am sure that is making me crazy, too.
Oh, the other house, the the one in quiet, easy to access Williamsburg, the one with so many easy to access outlets, and large sinks, it waits for a sale, and we watch with baited breath, and try not to think of the stress that will accompany two mortgages, in addition to the stress of the above letters a - h.
Transition. Just take it slow, easy, one day at a time. That’s what mothers and other smart people say to me. Why is that so difficult? Why is it making all of us so irritable and frustrated. Why is it taking the glow off of an experience that should be exciting and fun?
Oh who knows. The plumbers just got here.
Maybe things are looking up?
Fingers crossed.
