The feel of indoor camping

Everything we own is packed and moved out of one house and into the garage of another. I have no idea where anything is and am living out of cardboard boxes and plastic wardrobe bins. We’re moving.

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The transition has taken on the feel of indoor camping. We have no furniture or decorations and it smells like dust. The only items left are what we’ve deemed absolutely essential for our survival this week: our bed, TV and wine fridge.

A few dishes are still scattered in the kitchen, lonely soldiers abandoned among paint cans and rags, and a lone camping chair sits in the living room. It’s not uncomfortable, per se, but after watching the VMAs sitting on a dog bed last night, I’m ready to have a couch again.

It’s strange how little we actually need, compared with what we have. The nice-to-have things verses the need-to-have ones. Tonight I made spaghetti sauce using a plastic knife to cut veggies and a measuring cup as a ladle. I used leftover red pepper packets from a pizza delivery as seasoning and ate out of a casserole dish. My boxes of expensive culinary tools were nowhere to be found, yet the end result was the same as it would’ve been with my garlic press and colander.

It’s refreshing to feel minimalistic for a while. To define how I feel based off of things that aren’t really things. I don’t want to do this forever, but today, I’m content. There was a wild storm earlier and it was surprisingly fulfilling to sit on the floor and listen to the rain with my crazy dogs. I observed a lot more than I would have taken the time to notice under typical circumstances.

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I’m sad to leave the home we’ve shared for more than four years. We moved in as boyfriend and girlfriend and will leave as husband and wife. We’ve enjoyed countless meals here, shared lots of celebrations and recovered from defeats. We’ve experienced an appendectomy, new puppies and various jobs living here, stretching our lives into greater adventures than we ever imagined.

We grew up here, as a couple and as individuals, and I’ll never, ever, forget what it felt like to own my first home.

There have been wonderful parties here, and heated arguments, too. Early mornings and late evenings, long days and quiet afternoons. We experienced a leaky roof, rats and fallen trees. I learned what an escrow account is and how property taxes impact a mortgage payment. Most of all, I learned that a house and home are two very separate things, that combine under the most fortunate of circumstances.

It feels bittersweet to move on. Exciting and scary and hard to believe. I’m so thankful for this house and the memories we’ve built here, and although it sounds silly and dramatic, a part of my heart will always be here. A lot has happened within these walls.

At the end of the day, sitting on the floor once again, I finally feel ready to move on. It’s time to start the next chapter.

latest adventure in owning a house

Last week Jim and I noticed a bad smell in the hallway by our water heater. It seemed to come and go so at first we tried to ignore it and blame it on the dogs. Then it started to get really bad.

Jim was concerned that we might have a gas leak, so he and his dad set to work making sure we didn’t. I had no idea that spraying soap bubbles on a gas line can reveal a potential leak. Fortunately, that wasn’t the issue. My mom told me you can also spray soap bubble on a tire to find the leak. Who knew?

Our investigation and the increasing odor let us to an anonymous conclusion: dead rodent.  Where was it? In the attic. Somehow. The little bastard must’ve climbed through our roof vent and then tragically died when he couldn’t escape. I feel terrible that a creature met it’s death in our home, but he didn’t knock when he came in.

The miserable task of exploring the attic for the carcass fell on Jim’s shoulders. Mainly because I’m a girl and that’s a blue chore, not a pink chore. Poor guy was up in the nasty crawl space for 45 minutes and couldn’t locate the source of the smell amid all the insulation. He did, however, find a dog Kong toy. it wasn’t ours, and how that got up in our attic is a mystery to me.

Today I googled ‘dead rat in attic’ and was floored at how many sites came up. No one had surefire solutions but at least I learned we’re not alone. Moral of the story? Jim is a good sport and scented candles are a must.