Things are getting better. More stuff is being added to the apartment. I'm getting used to commuting from Queen Anne to Downtown, cooking in my kitchen, and shopping at the QFC around the corner. My place is slowly beginning to feel like a home.
So now that I've gotten over my initial feelings of nervousness, I can concentrate on the things that I love to do: decorate, craft, paint, draw, sew, hammer, and paste. My latest endeavor? Hanging curtains.
That doesn't sound too difficult, right? But hanging curtains here is much, much easier said than done. My ten-foot ceilings prove to be a bit of an obstacle when it comes to doing anything that is too dependant on the vertical direction. I tried to hang them myself last week by standing on a dining-room chair. When that didn't work, I pushed two of the chairs together, stacked my suitcase on top, and climbed up. And I was still too short. I could mark the place, 86 inches above the floor, where I was supposed to drill the holes. But that was the top of my reach, and I was unable to manipulate a drill to install the brackets. So my drapes remain on folded in a corner on the floor. Along with the curtains, I've also purchased a folding screen for my closet and fabric with which to re-cover the rocker. Both of which are doing me no good, being either in-transit or part of an incomplete project.
I just need more time. More time and more money and more tall friends.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Warming the House
The move has taken place, many of my possessions have been put away, and I have now spent three nights in my new apartment. That being said, it hardly feels like home.
The floor creaks and sometimes scares me. The plumbing in the bathroom has been a challenge from day one. The door to my room is sometimes difficult to slide, especially in the morning when it has been closed tight all night and my muscles are weak upon waking. The kitchen feels like a white box. And though I continue to burn incense, there are moments when my nose is tickeled by the smell of carpet glue.
I know that this will get better, that the reason all of these things bother me so much is because I'm not used to them, and because the place just doesn't feel like mine yet. I've not yet cooked a real meal in the kitchen - so far, all I've done is boil water for tea. Oh, and I made break-and-bake cookies our first night there. I've not gotten to sit down and eat a meal or watch a movie with my new roommate. I haven't had friends over, besides those who helped us on the day we moved in.
I am going out this afternoon with my mother to buy a few more items that might make the space feel immediately homier - curtains, bathmats, a colorful shower curtain, maybe a print for the wall. I keep attuributing the cavernous feeling of the new place to the lack of these items. So I'll buy them and hang them. But I think that what's really going to make these feelings go away is some living in the living room and cooking in the kitchen. So I invited some people to come over on sunday night. Not a housewarming party, though. For some reason the party is really important to me. Most of the time, I scoff at those who do things merely to impress others. But with this, I feel the need to impress. The need to show people that I am capeable of choosing a place and making it beautiful, to show people I was right when I moved in here.
But before that, I need my house to be warmed by others, to have them bring positive memories and energies with them. A true housewarming.
The floor creaks and sometimes scares me. The plumbing in the bathroom has been a challenge from day one. The door to my room is sometimes difficult to slide, especially in the morning when it has been closed tight all night and my muscles are weak upon waking. The kitchen feels like a white box. And though I continue to burn incense, there are moments when my nose is tickeled by the smell of carpet glue.
I know that this will get better, that the reason all of these things bother me so much is because I'm not used to them, and because the place just doesn't feel like mine yet. I've not yet cooked a real meal in the kitchen - so far, all I've done is boil water for tea. Oh, and I made break-and-bake cookies our first night there. I've not gotten to sit down and eat a meal or watch a movie with my new roommate. I haven't had friends over, besides those who helped us on the day we moved in.
I am going out this afternoon with my mother to buy a few more items that might make the space feel immediately homier - curtains, bathmats, a colorful shower curtain, maybe a print for the wall. I keep attuributing the cavernous feeling of the new place to the lack of these items. So I'll buy them and hang them. But I think that what's really going to make these feelings go away is some living in the living room and cooking in the kitchen. So I invited some people to come over on sunday night. Not a housewarming party, though. For some reason the party is really important to me. Most of the time, I scoff at those who do things merely to impress others. But with this, I feel the need to impress. The need to show people that I am capeable of choosing a place and making it beautiful, to show people I was right when I moved in here.
But before that, I need my house to be warmed by others, to have them bring positive memories and energies with them. A true housewarming.
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