stevenpiziks (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
stevenpiziks) wrote2019-11-27 11:01 am
stevenpiziks) wrote2019-11-27 11:01 am
Albion: Searching for Silverware--and Curtains
Our Albion Saga continues:
The silverware was still missing. We searched through all the boxes, all the bins, everywhere. No silverware. It was seriously weird. I remembered dividing it up and packing it, but it was nowhere to be found.
The following weekend, Darwin came to Wherever, and we did more shopping for house stuff, including curtains.
I should note here that, per tradition, the previous homeowners had left their drapes up. However, they were on cheap-ass rods (you know the kind--the easily-bent aluminum POS rods) and the fabric was more of that dull, dingy brown, with white sheers underneath. Yuck! So when the painters took them down, Darwin just tossed them all. But that left the house with no curtains. Fortunately, the way the house and the neighbors are positioned, it's difficult to see into most of the windows after dark. In the bedroom, we took to propping flattened moving boxes against the glass.
We browsed Bed, Bath, and Beyond, but the curtains were hugely expensive, especially considering we were draping an entire house. We looked at Ikea, but (and I can't cherry-coat this) their curtains sucked ass.
At last we ended up at JCPenney's. You can tell Penney is going under, at least at Twelve Oaks Mall. (Sears is already gone.) A large section of the store has been blocked off with no explanation, though it's obvious they're cutting back on inventory and don't want to say so. We sidled into the drapery section and found the right style of curtains, but not the right colors. Regardless, we needed dozens of curtains, and Penney only carried a few of each kind.
We ended up talking to a friendly clerk, who offered to order what we wanted, which would have the additional advantage of shipping--the curtains would go straight to the house in Albion. In about a week.
Meanwhile, I went out to Albion again for a weekend. It's not easy doing the apart thing. Part of my and Darwin's routine is evenings spent in our shared office at our desks. Every so often, we share something we find or bring something up for discussion. Or we laugh over something stupid. Now that's ended. I'm not used to sleeping alone, either. When I was single, I didn't move much when I slept, and when I got up in the morning, I basically just twitched the bedclothes back into place and the bed was made. But when Darwin and I share a bed, we tend to climb all over each other in our sleep, and by morning the bed looks like the results of an explosion in a sheet factory. These days, it's back to twitching.
The house is far emptier. It's just Max and me most of the time, and quite a lot of the time it's just me. It's lonely and unhappy-making. For the first two years we saw each other, Darwin and I looked forward intensely to living together--and, when it became legal, being married. We could eat dinners together and sleep in the same bed every single night instead of just weekends. When we moved in together, the dream was realized. I was happy knowing Darwin was there, and he with me.
Now we're back to living apart and seeing each other on weekends and odd holidays. My life feels as empty and echoey as the house. I'm not writing as much, and I have a tendency to stress eat. I'm sure these areas will improve as I (we) regain my equilibrium, but the thought of spending the next few years like this . . . well, I'm unhappy about it.
In the meantime, I've changed my attitude toward the house in Wherever. I knew we'd have to sell it eventually. It's a huge house, and it's silly to pour so much money into a place with space we aren't going to use. But I liked the house. I like the layout, I like the space, I like the location, I like the trees around it, I like the neighborhood (despite the leaf blower brigade), and I love my big, shady, leafy front porch with its comfortable furniture and perfect writing ambience. I acknowledged that we'd be selling, but secretly I was thinking how nice it would be to put it off for a while.
Now? Darwin's mostly gone, Max is leaving soon, and the thought of being mostly alone in this giant space has overriden my love of the house. Now I'm looking forward to selling it and getting a small, cozier place in the Wherever area. I'll live there until I can retire and rejoin Darwin--or he leaves the Albion job and rejoins me. Whichever.
And we still can't find the silverware.
The silverware was still missing. We searched through all the boxes, all the bins, everywhere. No silverware. It was seriously weird. I remembered dividing it up and packing it, but it was nowhere to be found.
The following weekend, Darwin came to Wherever, and we did more shopping for house stuff, including curtains.
I should note here that, per tradition, the previous homeowners had left their drapes up. However, they were on cheap-ass rods (you know the kind--the easily-bent aluminum POS rods) and the fabric was more of that dull, dingy brown, with white sheers underneath. Yuck! So when the painters took them down, Darwin just tossed them all. But that left the house with no curtains. Fortunately, the way the house and the neighbors are positioned, it's difficult to see into most of the windows after dark. In the bedroom, we took to propping flattened moving boxes against the glass.
We browsed Bed, Bath, and Beyond, but the curtains were hugely expensive, especially considering we were draping an entire house. We looked at Ikea, but (and I can't cherry-coat this) their curtains sucked ass.
At last we ended up at JCPenney's. You can tell Penney is going under, at least at Twelve Oaks Mall. (Sears is already gone.) A large section of the store has been blocked off with no explanation, though it's obvious they're cutting back on inventory and don't want to say so. We sidled into the drapery section and found the right style of curtains, but not the right colors. Regardless, we needed dozens of curtains, and Penney only carried a few of each kind.
We ended up talking to a friendly clerk, who offered to order what we wanted, which would have the additional advantage of shipping--the curtains would go straight to the house in Albion. In about a week.
Meanwhile, I went out to Albion again for a weekend. It's not easy doing the apart thing. Part of my and Darwin's routine is evenings spent in our shared office at our desks. Every so often, we share something we find or bring something up for discussion. Or we laugh over something stupid. Now that's ended. I'm not used to sleeping alone, either. When I was single, I didn't move much when I slept, and when I got up in the morning, I basically just twitched the bedclothes back into place and the bed was made. But when Darwin and I share a bed, we tend to climb all over each other in our sleep, and by morning the bed looks like the results of an explosion in a sheet factory. These days, it's back to twitching.
The house is far emptier. It's just Max and me most of the time, and quite a lot of the time it's just me. It's lonely and unhappy-making. For the first two years we saw each other, Darwin and I looked forward intensely to living together--and, when it became legal, being married. We could eat dinners together and sleep in the same bed every single night instead of just weekends. When we moved in together, the dream was realized. I was happy knowing Darwin was there, and he with me.
Now we're back to living apart and seeing each other on weekends and odd holidays. My life feels as empty and echoey as the house. I'm not writing as much, and I have a tendency to stress eat. I'm sure these areas will improve as I (we) regain my equilibrium, but the thought of spending the next few years like this . . . well, I'm unhappy about it.
In the meantime, I've changed my attitude toward the house in Wherever. I knew we'd have to sell it eventually. It's a huge house, and it's silly to pour so much money into a place with space we aren't going to use. But I liked the house. I like the layout, I like the space, I like the location, I like the trees around it, I like the neighborhood (despite the leaf blower brigade), and I love my big, shady, leafy front porch with its comfortable furniture and perfect writing ambience. I acknowledged that we'd be selling, but secretly I was thinking how nice it would be to put it off for a while.
Now? Darwin's mostly gone, Max is leaving soon, and the thought of being mostly alone in this giant space has overriden my love of the house. Now I'm looking forward to selling it and getting a small, cozier place in the Wherever area. I'll live there until I can retire and rejoin Darwin--or he leaves the Albion job and rejoins me. Whichever.
And we still can't find the silverware.