Tuesday, November 6, 2007

I have a key from 1949

And it unlocks my front door.

I simply cannot believe it. I have a door. Several doors. I have a hot water heater. I have built-in shelves, they are mine. I have flagstone on MY back patio! Of course I could go on and on. I also have dangerous wiring and threadbare carpeting from 1949.

But I must say, I love it all. Every little piece of asbestos, because it's mine. Say what you will, but that asbestos floor tile has character.One of the bedrooms has a cement floor, but it's been treated somehow. It's been stained and sealed and it actually looks pretty good. If I thought I could achieve the same results with whatever is beneath that carpeting, I'd give it a try. Probably cheaper than hard wood or bamboo. Definitely looks better than vinyl, which is likely too pricey for me anyway.

I roamed the house in a dazed state after the Realtor departed. Turning lights on and off, inspecting closet shelves, admiring the old light fixtures. I commented to my friend, "Look at this medicine cabinet! Now THIS is AUTHENTIC!" She snorted. "Yeah, it's old. You can't even see yourself in the mirror, the reflective stuff is missing." Well so. It's old, what do we expect? When Friend had seen enough and left for her own $500,000 late eighties nightmare, I was free to indulge in more euphoric fantasies with no disturbances.

Tomorrow the home warranty people are coming over to take pictures. I'm not sure that buying a home warranty will be worth it if these people already know what shape my appliances are in. Oh well. Maybe the electricity will be shut off so they can't test anything out.

When I got back to my apartment, I started packing again. I detest moving. But I keep reminding myself that I may never have to move again!


Saturday, November 3, 2007

Cleaning, sorting, boxing, discarding

Moving isn't easy when you have too much stuff and you are suddenly without someone else around to help. But I'd rather have it this way if my only other choice would be having X around.

Friends have offered to come over to help, but I'm just too much of a control freak. I want to know exactly where everything is going and I want to pack it myself. That way, I'm the only one who gets blamed if something gets broken. And my brother. He always breaks things because he THROWS boxes all over the place. I'll have to keep an eye on him come moving day.

I have been busy shredding paper for a week. The picture only shows four big bags of shredded paper, but there is another one behind the rest. I have no idea how much paper it was, but it was definitely a whole lot. I STILL have tons of paper. I guess I never throw away bills or documents. But since the divorce is all over with, I'm through renting (I hope), and I don't have much other debt, I guess I can get rid of all those OLD credit card bills and bank statements from 1998.

I'm using the shredded paper as packing cushion for my antique glassware and china. Plus the endless knick-knacks I probably ought to do away with. Then, when I get to my new house, I'll recycle the shredded paper and the boxes. All of the boxes are either second hand from someone else or those I've used any of the several times I've moved recently.

I also utilize space bags. I use the ones that are for travel and you just push the air out of them instead of using a vacuum.